The Worth of Reputation
by neversonbabies
Summary: Santana is the true HBIC of McKinley. She makes things happen and is in total control of the entire school. Brittany teaches her, though, that she can't control everything. Especially when she can't even admit what makes herself happy.
1. Welcome Back

**Well hello there! Welcome to _The Worth of Reputation_. This is a spin-off/sequel to my previous Puckleberry story _Stranger Things Had Happened_, only this time it's Santana and Brittany's turn to be in the spotlight. ABOUT TIME! You just can't ignore Santana for too long or else she gets pissed and exacts revenge on your ass. For anyone interested, the main Santana scenes that tie into this story are in chapters 3, 5, 7, and 9. Huh...all odd numbers. Weird.**

**This story essentially replaces the Season 2 timeline. Pretend it's the first day of school like in episode 1 of this season.**

**Anywhoo, so this is what happened...:**

**Rachel was dating Finn and she thought everything was finally going great, but then she started hanging out with Puck because he was the only one that kind of wanted to talk to her and things got sort of weird and Finn got jealous. But then Santana found out and told Puck that she owned Finn's v-card and Puck got pissed so he told Rachel. Then Rachel told off Finn and broke up with him, but started "pretend" dating Puck to make Finn jealous. Then Puck kind of fell in love with Rachel anyway and got drunk and admitted to her dad's on accident (whoops). But it's okay because Rachel realized she was into Puck too and they started dating "for real" last summer...**

**and that's what you missed ON GLEE (Stranger Things Had Happened)!**

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><p>Santana Lopez smirked to herself as she swayed down the hallways of McKinley High. The smell of fear invaded her senses as the mass of new Freshmen parted like the Red-fucking-Sea. Some of them stared in awe, loudly whispering about the girl passing by them without so much as a hint of acknowledgment. <em>Who was SHE? What grade was she? Did they have a chance?<em> The girls, in their ridiculous first-day-of-high-school outfits, looked on enviously and wondered how _that girl_ made popularity look so effortless. There was no simple answer Santana could give, even if she had any inclination to do so. Her master concoction of reputation, sex appeal, and attitude had won her the popularity and power she now held. Nothing but hard work and an inherited knack for business would suffice.

With summer now gone, her Cheerios uniform replaced the tank tops and shorts she'd existed in all break. The uniform was like a second skin. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but its feel brought with it an air of superiority; people knew who she was with a single glimpse of the McKinley red and white. As she rounded a corner another Cheerio stepped in line with her and matched her gate with ease. Brittany's blonde ponytail bounced as she excitedly rambled on about the pet rabbit in her science class.

"…and it's gray and fluffy and I named him Pig."

"Pig? You named a rabbit _Pig_?"

"It's cute" Santana rolled her eyes but smiled. _So are you_ she thought to herself. Knowing she couldn't say it aloud, she reached out her pinky for Brittany to wrap around her own. "How are your classes so far?" Brittany asked, genuinely interested.

"Boring. I hate all of them because you aren't with me." Brittany half smiled, agreeing. "What am I supposed to do without my B fix everyday?"

"They have, like, stuff for that. My mom makes me take the chewable kind. They taste like gummy bears. Once I ate an entire jar because I thought they were regular gummy bears and my pee turned neon yellow. But don't worry, you can't die from it. My mom called my doctor to make sure."

Santana made no effort to correct her best friend as they headed towards Brittany's history class. Santana tried to walk Brittany to as many of her classes as possible, that way she wouldn't get confused or lost. As they made their way down C hall the inevitable happened. A Freshman boy with Beiber hair and a gray and black checkered jacket stepped into the middle of the hallway about ten paces in front of them. His cocky grin screamed _I used to be the shit in middle school_. Too bad for him, popularity didn't transfer.

"Hey girls."

"Move Cretin" Santana ordered, not missing a step. Her loud cheer voice carried the length of the hallway, catching people's attention. She noticed a few of last year's Freshman snicker to themselves. _They_ knew and that made her smile even more maliciously. The boy didn't move, so overly confident was he. Time to change that…

"Cmon. Why don't you let me get to know you a little better. Both of you. I'm really good at listening."

Santana sighed. Did little boys really have to test her so early in the day? It wasn't even lunch yet. "Yeah…no. Check back when your balls finally drop." The boy's face reddened as Brittany and Santana let their pinkies loose, parted around him, and then re-joined on the other side. He muttered something about Santana being a bitch as they continued down the hall. For some perverse reason, Santana found this to be the most flattering thing he'd said to her yet. Spinning on her heels she blew him an ironic kiss and agreed.

"That's right, kid. I'm the true HBIC in this place and don't forget it. You're lucky I'm in a good mood or else I would destroy you. It's really that easy." Santana walked backwards a few steps, winked, and spun back around to link with Brittany again.

"You are so mean" Brittany giggled.

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "I'd say I'm off to a good start."

The rest of her classes weren't too bad. Santana had at least one kinda friend in each of them. Quinn was in 2, Puck and Finn were in 1, and Manhands was in 2 as well. Manhands wasn't exactly a friend, but at least she provided enough entertainment to get Santana through Chemistry and Pre Cal. That morning Santana had passed her previous record for scotch tape balls flicked and stuck in Rachel's hair. Previously, she'd managed 13. Now the record was 21. A vast improvement.

The most awesomely awkward class was English with Finn and Puck, of course. The boys sat on opposite sides of the room and continuously glared at each other. The drama concerning the Puck/Rachel/Finn triangle had come to a head mid summer and Santana could proudly say she started it. She was the one to tell Puck that Rachel hadn't taken Finn's v-card. That title belonged to herself. As she'd known would happen, Puck blurted it out to Rachel in some asinine fit of jealousy. As a result, the Hobbit broke up with Finn, her own heart breaking in the process. What Santana hadn't expected was for Rachel to give in to Puck's affection. She could have sworn Rachel would dismiss his smooth lines as a trap. To Santana's dismay, not only did Puck's words work, but they seemed to be genuine. She'd distanced herself from the football player the rest of the summer. That afternoon, though, walking in and seeing the drama buzzing in the air, Santana had to take a side. She chose Puck because even though they hadn't spoken, she knew the importance of allegiances. She plopped down next to him, not saying a word about how out of place it was for her to be there.

"So, Lopez…long time" Puck half whispered, leaning back and linking his fingers behind his head. Santana watched him cockily flex is biceps and groaned. Why had she _ever_ let him crawl on top of her?

"Not my fault you've been getting busy with The Stubby One."

"Lay off her" he warned gruffly, still very defensive about dating Rachel Berry.

"Yeah, yeah. You know, I wouldn't put up with this shit from anyone else. Hooking up with Stubbles and disappearing…"

"So…"

"So."

"How's Britt?"

"Fine." Santana eyed the mohawked boy suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just wondering, seeing how you saw…a lot of her this summer."

Santana pursed her lips and sent an elbow into Puck's ribs, causing him to cry out under his breath. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know."

"Illuminate me."

"Well, you've been hooking up with her, right?"

"FUCK YOU, PUCKERMAN!" Santana bellowed, garnering everyone's attention. Their English teacher, Mr. Howard, sighed.

"Puckerman. Lopez. Do I have to ban you two from sitting together?_ Again_?"

"Nah. Sorry Mr. H."

"That was your warning. If it happens again…. Just don't. So if we can all cease extraneous discussions, I'd like to continue."

Santana huffed in her seat and studiously ignored Puck.

"Hey" he hissed. Santana angled her body away from him. "Hey" he hissed again and poked her in the back. Santana whipped around and glared. "Lemme borrow a piece of paper?"

She didn't even bother giving him a hard time. Puck never brought anything to class except himself, but even that wasn't a constant. Santana dug into her backpack and fished out a new notebook which she slid over to him. A pen came shooting over next without needing a prompt. A few seconds later a piece of paper from her notebook bounced off her chest and landed in front of her. Determined not to let him one up her, she chucked it back when Mr. Howard turned around to write down a list of authors on the board. Puck threw it back even harder.

"It's a note, dumbass." Reluctantly she opened it. Inside was as single question in Puck's blocky handwriting.

_Your not mad at me anymore?_

_Now I am_ she wrote back, correcting his grammar with an apostrophe and an e.

_Nah. Just irritated._

_Whatever._

_How come ur not still for real pissed?_

_It wasn't worth the effort._

_So you're cool with us? Me and Rach?_

She glanced over at her friend and detected a hint of strain in his face. Maybe the silent treatment she'd given him for the summer had _really_ bothered him. The radio silence had been mostly for herself, though; admitting that the Hobbit had trumped her was too much to handle.

_Don't push your luck. I don't forgive and forget. I just ignore and adjust I guess._

_Cool. So, Britt?_

_What about her?_

_I heard you weren't hooking up with your usual dudes this summer. Only her._

_Fuck off._

_Chicks and Gentledudes, denial. It's not just a river in Egypt!_

_That is sooo 4__th__ grade._

_Doesn't mean it isn't true._

Puck smirked to himself and pulled his phone from his pocket. Without needing to look he jammed out a text and sent it. He grinned smugly to himself before his eyebrows slowly furrowed. Snatching the paper back from Santana, he scribbled out a new note.

_Hey…didn't I make you cry in 4__th__ grade or something?_

Santana sneered at him and angrily replied, ripping the paper. _Yeah. You did. You cut off a chunk of my hair because you said you needed it for the tail to your raccoon skin cap. I fucking hate you for that, btw._

_Whatever. It grew back fast._

_No it did not you idiot. When the stylist tried to even it out, she had to give me a bob. My mom made me get extensions that weekend for a pageant I was in._

_I forgot that you were in kiddie contests. Did you win?_

_Of course I did. I was an adorable child._

_Oh. So what happened to you then?_

"_Jerk"_ Santana hissed under her breath, a smile fighting to make itself known. Puck grinned back and went back to texting.

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><p>PE was the only class Brittany ever did well in. She never understood the complexities of Spanish or why her history teachers always said the Cold War was so cold since it happened in Mexico or whatever. Books never meant that much. Sports, though, Brittany could get into. She understood movement, very complex movement. She also knew timing. It was why she could dance so well and picked up choreography quickly. It was also why she was responsible for a lot of the routines for the Cheerios.<p>

Even though everyone thought it, Brittany wasn't a stupid girl. She just understood things that a lot of people didn't get. She could see the lack of connection they had with their movements. She saw it everywhere, at school, at the mall, sometimes even in Glee. _That girl's steps were too quick. That boy leaned too much to his right._ She saw their imperfections clear as day and it baffled her that no one else ever noticed. The same skills could been seen in Rachel. Rachel knew someone was going to go flat or sharp before they did. She could hear them reaching the pinnacle of their chest voice and knew that they would crack when they hit the next note because _they_ didn't know. She was good. So was Brittany.

The first day of school, however, was about listening to the same rules she'd learned in elementary school. PE was about team work, not winning, so bullying kids for doing poorly was not allowed. The most important part was simply trying. Blah blah blah…. Her head was already somewhere else. Brittany was sitting along with the rest of her class in the endzone of the football field, but all she could notice was that the grass on her end was a lot more intact than on the other side. She tried to think back to the last time she'd cheered for the football team. Santana had looked really hot that night because they'd gone to the mall the day before and picked up a whole bunch of new eyeshadows and a new set of eyelashes. Santana was wearing them that game and kept making sexy eyes at Brittany all night to show them off. Then they'd gone to Santana's house and had sex because, really, who could resist Santana Lopez when she looked _that hot_?

That wasn't the point though. Was it? What had she been trying to think about? Santana…cheer…football…grass! So they hadn't really been cheering all that much, considering the football team was horrible. The other team had made a majority of their touchdowns in the first quarter and then slacked off for the rest of the game. Most of the other schools did that too. The first half had been spent looking to the right the entire time, which cramped up Brittany's neck. Santana had massaged it during half-time, before they got to perform, but the same thing had happened during the second half, only to the left. That meant the Titans' endzone was to the left during the first half and that was the endzone the PE class was sitting in. It made sense…

From behind someone's phone buzzed, distracting Brittany entirely. She turned around bluntly as Rachel Berry pulled her phone out of her bag and read the screen. "Is it Puck?" Brittany asked a little too loudly, garnering a few glares.

"Shh!" Rachel hissed

Brittany scooted back so she was next to Rachel and hugged her knees to her chest. Rachel wasn't so bad. She was really bossy all the time and most people hated her for it. Santana was really bossy too, though, so Brittany was used to it. Sometimes she wished Santana wasn't so mean to Rachel all the time, but then Rachel usually did something really rude and Brittany changed her mind. People didn't stay sympathetic with Rachel Berry for very long. As she watched Rachel try to secretly read her cell phone Brittany snorted. "You're really bad at breaking the rules."

"Excuse me?"

"Duh! When you text in class you have to put your backpack or whatever in your lap and just leave the zipper open."

"Isn't that just as obvious?"

"No. When I get asked about it I tell them I'm just feeding my lizard."

"Do…do you really have a lizard in your backpack?"

"Sometimes, but only when she's on her best behavior" Brittany answered cheerfully. She dipped her head far back and looked at the cloudless sky. It made her a little sad. What good was a bright blue sky if there were no clouds to decorate it? Rachel wearily watched Brittany. How anyone could be so pleasant, yet so out there was something she asked herself every time Brittany spoke. When Rachel's phone buzzed again Brittany tipped her head to the right and watched as Rachel pulled her bag into her lap and slipped her hands inside. Much better.

It was such a nice day, did they have to spend it in school? Even though they were outside, the football field still felt like school: miserably boring. Brittany closed her eyes and leaned back on her hands. At least it kind of _felt_ like tanning, only with clothes. Rachel interrupted Brittany's daydreaming with a tap on the shoulder.

"Santana says hi."

Upon hearing Santana's name Brittany perked back up. "How do you know that?"

"She's in class with Noah right now."

"Who?"

"Noah."

"Who's Noah?"

Rachel sighed. "Puck is."

"Puck is what?"

"Noah."

"Rachel…" Brittany sighed, putting a hand on the shorter girl's shoulder sympathetically, "sometimes you just don't make sense. I thought I should let you know."

"Puck's real name is Noah, Brittany."

"Puck isn't his real name?"

"No."

Brittany gazed at Rachel with a wounded face. "I just always thought his mom was super mean, naming a kid 'Puck'…I feel like I've been lied to."

"…yeah…anyway, Santana says hi."

"Lemme see!"

Rachel flipped her phone around so Brittany could read the text. "Um, tell her hi back and that I miss her."

"Didn't you just see her?"

"So what?" Rachel shook her head slightly, but typed out the cutesie message. After learning about Santana and Brittany's secret lives that summer, Rachel had taken a closer look at how the two interacted. It actually was pretty cute. And so honest. She didn't think she'd ever seen Santana so earnestly interested in someone. There didn't seem to be any second agenda, either. They just loved being around each other. If only Santana wasn't so concerned with her image.

"NO! Wait!" Rachel jumped as Brittany lunged at her. "Let me do it." Without waiting for permission Brittany slipped the entire backpack from Rachel's lap. Thus began a text conversation lasting the entire period.

_Hey. Britt here. Santana reading the phone or Puck?_

_(Five minutes later) Me. Puck made me fight him for it. Sup?_

_Hello and I miss you_

_Aww miss you too Bee. What class u in?_

_PE Yay!_

_I think you're the only kid that likes PE lol_

_Dunno why. Soooo much fun_

_I wish I was there with you_

_Me too_

Santana propped her head in her hand and smiled. She knew Brittany was smiling too. Slowly an idea came to her.

_What kind of phone does Berry have?_

_iPhone, y?_

_Imma send you something. Just accept_

_Kay_

A few seconds later Rachel's phone buzzed and an incoming call box appeared. Brittany obediently accepted and was met with Santana's smirking face. A video call! Brittany gasped in surprise causing Santana to quickly bring her index finger to her pursed lips. Beaming, Brittany bounced once in excitement which made Santana smile. The Latina stuck out her tongue and squinted her eyes at Brittany, making the blonde giggle just like she knew she would. Wondering what was so funny, Rachel leaned over to see what was happening.

It needn't really be said that Rachel disapproved of the use of electronic devices in such a manner during school hours. The need, yes _need_, for the two girls to be together was just as disconcerting. Even then, they were just looking at each other. Nothing was being said because both girls were in class, but just the reassurance of a video stream was enough for them. The look on Santana's face as she silently watched Brittany smile back…it was so overwhelming. It was a look of want, seduction, admiration, joy…dare she say love? The look was everything, and from a pair of chocolate brown eyes that knew too much for her own good.

Santana spotted Rachel creeping in on their eye fuck fest and drew back with a gasp. What could she say? Seeing the Hobbit when Brittany was turning her on was startling.

"LOPEZ? What are you doing?"

Rachel and Brittany watched in horror as Santana's eyes, calm as they were, widened just enough to let out a hint of distress. Suddenly there was a lot of static noise, muffled sounds, and then darkness. They could hear a very muffled conversation from somewhere in Santana's classroom. A deeper, male voice grumbled and a higher, Santana voice mumbled back.

"Shit" Brittany moaned.

Suddenly there was a stream of light and the screen shown with red cloth and tanned skin.

"Where'd she put the phone?" Rachel whispered.

With a quick glare Brittany snatched the phone to her chest and shut it down.

"Nowhere" was her definitive answer.

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><p><strong>Santana soooo loves Brittany. It's ridonkulous. And you KNOW she is totally going to invest in iPhones for her and Brittany so they can have hot video chat sex on the go. But seriously, where DID she put that phone? You're just going to have to wait and see I guess... <strong>**I see London, I see France...**


	2. This Is What A Yoyo Feels Like

**I see London, I see France…I see Santana's spankie pants! Yes, I am a giant dork and am proud of that. What of it?**

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><p>At 2:45 the final bell rang, signaling the end of Santana's first day as a Junior. She couldn't have been more relieved. After a summer of doing nothing, a full day of school had been enough to wear a girl out. She threw her Spanish book into her locker and looked into the mirror she'd affixed to the inside of the door. Cocking an eyebrow, she smirked at her reflection. At least she <em>looked<em> good suffering. Magically, Brittany appeared next to her and threw her arms around Santana's neck in relief.

"Oh thank god! I didn't know if you were in trouble or what!"

"Calm that down, Britt" Santana laughed. "What was he going to do? Reach up my skirt?"

"I guess not…"

"All is well, Bee. So…fifteen 'till Glee. What do you want to do?"

"We could visit Pig?"

"OR we could make out in my car" Santana suggested, having already made up her mind. She held her pinky out to Brittany, which the girl took out of habit, and lead the way to her car.

Santana didn't just drive _any_ car, she drove a _sexy_ car. When compared to the other cars in the student lot, spotting Santana's was like playing a game of "one of these things is not like the other." It was a black on black Lexus, murdered out from the grill to the tail. It sat low on matte black rims while the limo tinted windows kept everything to the imagination. It was sexy, mysterious, and pretty bitchin. Just like it's driver. Whenever she pulled to a stop or parked somewhere, people who didn't recognize it stared in awe. Guys drooled over what they couldn't have, then just about died when she climbed out. Her sexually charged self only added insult to injury.

The Lexus had been a "forgive me present" from Santana's dad for forgetting about the Cheerleading Regionals that the Cheerios had ended up winning (of course). He was a busy man, his family knew that, but that didn't keep Santana from giving him shit for weeks. To make up for his lack of attention, he'd surprised Santana with a car. She forgave him instantly. Regionals was nothing when Nationals was around the corner. They'd won that too. Afterwards, Santana had been presented with body mods and kits, making her car the _hottest_ thing in the McKinley student lot.

The blacked out windows made it perfect for transgressions of the sexy nature; the girls took advantage of this often. So often, in fact, that it had become an embarrassing statistic that there was always a pair of lost panties to be found in the back seat. Quinn had spotted a pair once, so had Puck. Santana always refused to clarify who they belonged to, of course, but everyone had in idea. The duo were at it again that afternoon, reveling in a quick tryst before Glee. It seemed Brittany was _very_ relieved Santana wasn't in trouble and was making it obvious with her extra intense sweet lady kisses. Though, when Santana snapped to attention and realized they were already late for their first rehearsal, she rushed them both out. That time it was Santana who lost her panties. Not to worry. She'd learned long ago to keep spares in her locker.

Already 15 minutes late, they strolled towards the choir room flushed and a obviously disheveled. Inside, Mr. Schue was sitting at the piano watching Rachel power through _another_ ballad. Already, the other kids were fed up with watching Rachel hog the spot light…and it was only the first day of school. Some things never changed. When Santana and Brittany entered the room, though, all eyes (except for Rachel's) focused in on them. The kids who hadn't seen Santana that summer then zoomed in on her newly enlarged rack. Santana rolled her eyes.

"Yeah yeah…" she said flicking her hand in the air. In one deep breath she mockingly ran the same note she had known Rachel would belt. It both stopped the diva short and provided a great entrance. _That_ was how bitches got shit done. Brittany in tow, they glided to the front row of chairs and plunked down next to each other. The Glee kids had left two adjacent chairs empty for them because they knew if they hadn't, Santana would force them to move. Their "kindness" made her gloat inside.

"Sorry Mr. Schue. Britt and I were down the Chemistry hall and lost track of time" she lied smoothly.

"We were visiting Pig. He's the rabbit they keep over there. Santana and I are going to rescue him from being experimented on."

"Hun, they aren't going to experiment on him. He's just a pet."

"That's what you think…"

"Cough-bullshit-cough" Puck _un_smoothly interrupted.

"Shut it, Puckerman."

"Enough" Mr. Schuester ordered, silencing the spat on the spot. "Santana, Brittany, we're glad you finally decided to join us. Rachel was just demonstrating what a summer of practice can do to keep up, or improve, vocal range and power."

Rachel half-heartedly smiled and took her seat, which was next to Santana. The Latina noticed Rachel casually smooth her skirt under her ass before sitting. She did so without making any eye contact with the boy sitting next to her. He just happened to sport a mohawk. What kind of bitch would she be if Santana _didn't_ call them out on this? "Really, Berry?" She looked around the room, but only Quinn and Finn showed any emotion about the seating arrangement. It seemed not everyone had heard about the drama filled summer. Probably because they were never welcomed by the rest of the student body, and therefore not privy to rumors that didn't circulate in school hallways. _They_ hadn't heard that Rachel had broken up with Finn for lying about hooking up with Santana. They also hadn't heard that she'd hooked up with Puck almost instantly. Santana could fix that.

In a swift movement she turned in her seat and kicked Rachel's chair so it skidded into Puck's. "Don't pretend like the summer didn't happen." Rachel blushed but didn't deny a thing as Puck casually slung an arm over the back of her chair. "Just go for it, Berry. It can only up your social stock." The girls silently exchanged a look of acceptance and then went back to ignoring each other.

"Right…" Mr. Schue commented, "So it seems the summer was…interesting for everyone." He nervously glanced at Artie and his incessant glares aimed toward Tina and Mike. Finn sported a similar look at Rachel and, as Will now understood, Puck as well. Eventually he came to Santana. Her serene smirk sent goosebumps up his arms. Will Schuester had the worst feeling that Santana not only knew all about the tension in the room, but had also been the catalyst as well. He would learn later via the rumor mill that she _had_ broken up Finn and Rachel as well as Tina and Artie. Will shuddered to think about what the full extent of Santana's influence school wide could be.

The regularly scheduled Glee agenda resumed uneventfully. They talked about ways to recruit new members, what selections the students wanted to try out for sectionals, ways to improve what they were already working on, the normal. It was as if the summer hadn't happened and they were picking up where they left off. Santana liked it. The mood of the room was comforting and familiar. There wasn't a whole lot of gossip or drama yet, so for the moment everyone was at peace with one another. Well…at least for the most part. Finn looked like he wanted to gouge out Puck's eyes with the pen he was chewing on and it was clear Artie wanted to run over Mike's face with his chair. Other than that, though….

Content, Santana leaned back into the plastic choir room chair she occupied. At least for an hour a day she didn't have to keep up with acting popular. There was an ease, a camaraderie even, that existed in the small space and no where else. AND Brittany was there.

Santana leaned over and laid her head on Brittany's shoulder. The others were so used to the touchy nature of Brittany and Santana's relationship that no one noticed their affection anymore. This was lucky for the girls because they spent a lot of time in the back row doing risqué things. The others just _got_ that the girls were close. They came as a pair. The end. After a moment Santana felt the blonde's head rest atop hers; it sent a happy thrill though her.

Brittany, on the other hand, found the situation confusing. Santana ran hot and cold with her all day, every day. Alone, Santana was the most affectionate person Brittany knew. She catered to her friend and said kind, soft things to her. They hugged, they kissed, and they laughed. Alone. At school, Santana sucked all of her kindness deep inside and acted the part of the bitchy cheerleader that didn't have feelings. The most touch they ever shared was their trademarked pinky wrap. Santana was always just as respectful as normal, though. Everyone else was subject to her mocking jokes and bitchy tricks, but Brittany was exempt. Always. Santana NEVER picked on Brittany. EVER.

Then there was Glee, the most confusing time of all. Santana touched and cuddled more, but never acted as intensely affectionate as she did when she was alone with Brittany. Neither was she as…mushy. These changes in the Latina not only confused Brittany but also upset her. It was as if Santana felt ashamed, especially of the feelings Brittany knew she felt. The daily rejection was too much to bear sometimes, but then the Latina would sneak them away from the crowds of people for a moment of alone time. She would be the kind Santana for those few brief minutes they shared, but then she went right back to her normal self once the door opened and they went about their day. Dealing with Santana was like being a yo-yo. Just watching yo-yos made Brittany dizzy. Imagine how she felt.

That day in Glee, when Brittany felt Santana lean into her, her hopes rose. Maybe she was in a good mood. In response she let her head rest on Santana's. The Latina's tight, hairsprayed ponytail felt slick and cool under Brittany's ear. The first thing she was going to do after school was pull out Santana's hair tie and shake out the stiffness of the girl's hair. It was prettier down, anyway.

Now Mr. Schuester was talking about musical ties. Brittany had no idea what ties had to do with showchoir, but if he was having trouble Kurt could help him figure it out. Kurt was really good with the that weird kind of fashion and _had_ to know how to tie a tie. She whispered the thought to Santana, to which the Latina laughed quietly. She whispered back that Kurt could help him learn to match them to his _vests_ better. The sound of a happy Santana made Brittany happy too. Blindly she felt for her friend's hand and, when she found it, laced her fingers with Santana's. The Latina looked down at their entwined fingers and smiled. Brittany took this as a good sign. She brought her mouth closer to Santana's ear and whispered something else.

"You look extra hot today." Santana mentally took a step back, but let the comment pass as a typical Brittany-ism. No one would care about it. "It makes me want to kiss you super bad." _Excuse me?_

"Knock it off, Brittany" Santana mumbled gruffly, pulling her hand away with sharp snap of her wrist. She sat up and sneakily looked around. Had anyone else heard that? It seemed loud. Had Brittany been loud? She didn't need everyone gossiping about her and Brittany again. Last year the whole sex comment basically disappeared after a few days of intense denial and a hallway hookup with some random hot dude. Add a little blackmail against that creepy jew-fro kid and the rumor was squashed. Done, done, and done. But these kids weren't dumb. If they were given any other reason to doubt the validity of Santana and Brittany's "normal" friendship, the gossip would come back tenfold and become canon. That was NOT going to happen. Not on Santana's watch. She crossed both her arms and legs and put on her best bitch face. Back to being a wench….

It felt like being on a time out. Brittany wasn't allowed to play until she learned her lesson and promised never to misbehave again. She would have to serve her punishment, of course, but once completed, all would be good again. At least, that was what had happened before. This time, though, was the breaking point. The blonde Cheerio stood abruptly, startling everyone.

"Brittany?" Mr. Schuester queried. "Is something the matter?" Brittany glared down at Santana. The Latina shifted in her seat and tried to play off the nervous sweat that hit her. All eyes in the room settled on them.

"Bee" Santana hissed under her breath, "just sit down. We'll figure it out after." She looked up at Brittany pleadingly, a hint of the nice Santana telling her friend that she was sorry.

"I don't want to 'figure' stuff out anymore! It either is or isn't, Santana!" Brittany threw back boldly. Santana went pale. Or, as pale as her tanned skin would allow. "Take it back! Don't make me look like the idiot everyone thinks I am!"

"Britt…." The blonde's face slackened at the lack of sureness in her friend's tone. Santana grew more agitated when Brittany didn't give up. "Look, I'm…sor-sorry" she choked out. "Okay? I'm sorry. Will you please sit down now?"

"Sorry for what?" Santana shook her head a tiny bit, just enough so the rest wouldn't notice, and glanced behind her. Quinn was glaring. She'd noticed it. _Fuck_. The exiled Cheerio poked Santana through the open spot on the back of the Choir chair with her ballet flat. Santana glared out of the corner of her eye and saw Quinn nodding "yes" at her. She'd seen the _entire_ thing, not just the head shaking. _Fuuuuuuuck_. Santana panicked. What was happening here? She was supposed to be in control of this situation, not Brittany and certainly not Quinn. She shook her head again. Brittany did the same, only openly showing her distress to the entire room. "Sorry" she mumbled, grabbing her backpack and leaving quickly.

That was the moment Santana realized she wasn't as in control as she thought. Puck's hand reached around Rachel and sailed into the back of Santana's head.

"Shit, Puckerman!" she hollered, putting one hand on the back of her head and smacking him back with the other. Rachel worriedly scooted forward to avoid the slapfest that ensued.

"Are you just gonna let her leave?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at her in disdain. Santana looked him in the eye and then slowly went around the room. Half looked at her expectantly, either to cause more drama or to explain herself. The other half could tell what had gone down and just glared. Damage control time.

"Dunno what's up her ass" she said confidently and shrugged.

"Santana, please watch your language." Mr. Schue reminded her. He reminded her about "language" a lot. She didn't know why he bothered anymore because she clearly had the mouth of a sailor and had no plans of changing any time soon.

"She's really leaving" Kurt commented aloud. He was standing on his chair and looking out one of the high placed windows that pointed towards the parking lot. "Oh…wait…she's stopping."

"Don't you drive her?" Rachel asked Santana.

"So?" she asked back snottily. Rachel knew better than to reply.

"She looks _really_ confused. Even more than usual" Kurt continued. "Like…it looks like she's going to…oh, there she goes. Crying."

Santana whipped around to face the front, a stoic look to her. Inside she was raging. Everyone needed to fucking mind their own business. Brittany would be fine…right? …shit, maybe not. Oh god, this wasn't happening. She ran this place. She was the premiere ice bitch so far up the ladder no one could touch her. She was _it_. Santana, the poor thing, actually believed all of it, too. She had no idea how transparent she was to the kids that knew her. Puck, Quinn, even Rachel saw how obvious her denial of Brittany was. They _knew_ somehow, and that infuriated her more.

She felt one hand on her shoulder, another on her knee, and realized she was shaking. Everywhere. Her hands shakily played with the hem of her skirt as both legs bounced on the balls of her feet. Hard. She was a pent up ball of nervous energy that _needed_ to come out. The hand on her shoulder belonged to Quinn, she realized, noticing the finely manicured nails. The hand on her knee was Rachel Berry's. So much buzzed in her head that she didn't even think to yell at the smaller girl for invading her personal bubble.

Mr. Schuester was rambling on about something completely unimportant like respect, as usual, and didn't have a chance to prepare for hurricane Santana.

"OH FUCK IT!" she yelled. Bolting up, her seat flew backwards into Quinn's legs. Quinn cried out as the metal bar on the back came into contact with the soft spot on her knee. Santana didn't notice. She stormed to the classroom door, knocking a music stand and a pile of sheet music onto the floor in the process, and slammed it open with a loud bang. The hallway was empty as she tore down it and charged into the courtyard out front. Ahead was the parking lot. "Britt?" she called, shielding her yes from the falling summer sun. The blonde was gone. "GOD DAMMIT!" Santana felt herself crack too.

Inside everyone was spying. Mr. Schuester was trying to get everyone to take their seats as he frantically picked up piece after piece of sheet music and tried to put the individual songs back together. It would take forever to re-do. It was becoming very obvious, however, that rehearsal was unofficially over for the day. Without a word he shoved the mixed up stack of papers into his briefcase and left, irritated with them all. Emma would talk him out of his mood. No one noticed him leave.

Mercedes joined Kurt on a neighboring chair and looked out the same window.

"You guys, she's lost her mind or something. She's pacing all crazy and stuff and yelling things to herself. Kurt, does this window open?" she asked, pulling at the sticking latch.

"No, I already tried. Too bad, right? I wish I could hear her ranting. She's gone off the deep end this time."

"I feel kind of bad for her" Tina admitted. "I mean, I know she's always rude to everyone, and always calls me Cullen instead of Cohen, but Brittany is her best friend."

"She totally deserves this" Puck disagreed. "Maybe this will teach her to stop being a bitch about it all the time."

"Puck, shut up. She so doesn't deserve it" Quinn countered. "Maybe she needed to see the reality of what she's been doing, but it didn't have to go like this."

"Dude, so shall you reap and shit. She's not going to _get_ anything if no one gives her a wakeup call. I'm kinda impressed that it was Brittany, though. Girl has chops."

Mercedes hopped down from her chair. "What just happened?"

Six unknowing faces nodded at her; all were wondering the same thing. Three informed faces looked at each other and agreed that the others weren't going to find out, at least not now.

"Who knows" Quinn muttered, stilling looking at Puck. "It's Santana. She probably said something typically bitchy and it hurt Britt's feelings."

"No. Santana is always saying rude stuff to everyone, but she would never hurt Brittany's feelings" Artie reasoned.

"Not with words, anyway" Puck snarkily added.

"Enough from you, Puck" Quinn scolded. The others picked up on this at once and knew that Puck and Quinn were in the know. They also knew that neither of them were going to give up the secret, either. What the kids didn't expect was that _Rachel_ seemed to know what was going on as well.

"I agree with Quinn, Noah. I think it's best that you not say anything else. I don't think it's our place and Santana would be furious with you."

"Are you turning on me?" he questioned with a smirk.

"Maybe…" she returned with a wink and a gleaming smile.

"Screw this" Finn grumbled and gathered his things to leave too.

"You don't have to act like such a pussy, Hudson." Puck crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Man up."

"Hey, screw you, man. You can't even keep your hands off other dude's girls. I mean, first Quinn and now Rachel? Fuck you."

Quinn reddened and sunk into her seat. She really wished people would let it go already. None of them could say that babygate hadn't happened, and she never wanted people to (least of all herself) but it wasn't necessary to remind everyone that she'd cheated and gotten pregnant ALL THE TIME. It was a really selfish, low point for her, and she'd rather not relive _why_ all of last year's drama had happened. She knew Finn wasn't totally over her, but it wasn't fair for him to keep bringing her up when he was the one who forgot who she was after they broke up. It wasn't fair.

Finn's comment pissed Puck off even more. It had become his own personal duty to make sure Quinn was always alright, especially because he was the reason she fell from grace. He would always have one eye watching her back because he always remembered that she'd conceived and given birth to his kid. They had made a fucking KID. How could he ever just leave her hanging? He wanted to cut Finn down, but, as what typically happened, Rachel beat him to the punch.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have slept with her and lied about it, FINN."

"Rach, this isn't fair! We weren't even together! You act like I did it to hurt you when it's not like that at all."

"But you _lied_ about it. That's what bit you in the ass."

"You're talking like him now? My god Rachel! Look at him! He lies all the time!"

"Not to me" she stated calmly. The assurance in her voice worried Finn. "If he messes up he comes clean."

"Lying only fucks you over, bro. I suggest you learn that one. I did." Puck slid his arm around Rachel's shoulder smugly.

"That's it! I'm gonna kick you ass, Puckerman!" Finn threw down his backpack with a dull thud. Puck coolly stood. Not one for violence, Rachel jumped up between the tall football players.

"That's enough for today" she rambled. "Noah, why don't we go check on Santana?"

"Good idea. She looks like she's going to break something. Keep her away from my car, Please." Kurt still stood at the window and watched Santana pace.

Puck sneered at Finn, but allowed Rachel to drag him from the room.

Santana saw them approach her carefully, like two people nearing a wounded animal or some crap. Their condescension irked her almost as much as not being able to find Brittany. No one should ever look at her with such _pity_. It was disgusting.

"Santana? Are you okay?" Rachel squeaked, walking a step behind Puck.

"Of course I am" she snapped, wringing her hands. "I just…where the hell is she?"

"She's mad at you, dude. She probably bolted" Puck suggested, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"But how? I'm the one that got her here."

"Maybe she walked?"

"Why would she walk? That's so stupid! She lives all the way on the other side of town!"

"Tana, just cool it."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT. I can't COOL IT, okay? Like, she left…."

"Yeah, she did. And she'll come back eventually."

"But she actually fucking left! Shitting…FUCK!"

She could feel her hands shaking, but Santana was more worried about the stress on her heart. It was beating too hard to be normal. Sweat beaded at her hair and she was starting to feel dizzy. It was almost like not breathing. She was hot, but cold at the same time. Everything was just wrong all at once.

"Why don't you sit for a minute" Rachel suggested. Santana readied herself to snap, but decided maybe she wasn't so okay after all upon seeing how freaked out Rachel was. Maybe she looked as off as she felt. Santana shuffled to the grass and slumped onto a bench. She tried to breath slowly so that her heart and nerves would calm down, but all she managed to do was make herself feel winded too. Her muscles were all tensed at once and screamed for some kind of release.

"I need a cigarette…." With shaky hands she dug a rumpled box of cigarettes out of her backpack and lit one.

"Santana! That's horrible for your voice!"

"Yeah, and it also chills me out, so shut the fuck up Rachel. It's not like I smoke them regularly." She took a drag and began to relax into the metal bench. The smoke was helping a little.

"What did you do to her?" Puck asked, not at all bothered by the sight of his ex smoking on school property. Santana rolled her eyes and looked away.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit" Puck scoffed. He took a couple steps back to lean on a car parked at the curb. To make note, the car wasn't his. "What happened? Did she tell you that she loves you or something?"

Santana's eyes widened and flicked from Puck to Rachel and back again. "Stop spreading rumors about me, Puckerman. Only I'm allowed to do that."

"She knows, if that's what you're worried about."

Santana took another angry drag and let the nicotine chill her out some more. She crossed one leg abruptly over the other. "Tell me, what does she know exactly?"

"You know." Santana raised her eyebrows sarcastically. No, she wanted him to say it. No sense in implicating herself of anything. Puck shot her a bored look. The avoidance of the entire situation was getting pretty old. "Rachel knows…we all know, that Britt loves you and that you are too scared to admit that you love her back."

Santana tried to laugh off his words. "Of course I love Britt. She's my bestie. How could I not? Nothing new there."

"You _love_ her, Santana. _Love_, love."

To kill time, Santana slowly snubbed out her cigarette on the cement next to her foot and flicked the butt. The earth-conscious part of Rachel wanted to scold, but the fact that Santana was on a real name basis with her kept her mouth shut.

"Well, Puckerman" Santana finally responded, digging out hand sanitizer from her bag and dosing her hands with it. Cigarette smoke smelled bad enough, but the stench it left on a smoker's hands was the real killer. "It seems I need to tell you what I already told Quinn when she suggested something similar."

"Oh yeah?" Puck smirked and crossed his arms. "What's that?"

Santana stood and fixed the slit pleats of her Cheerios skirt. "I'M NOT GAY!" If she'd been close enough she would have slapped him. Lucky for him, he wasn't. She resorted to swinging her backpack at him instead. The first swing clocked him in the arm and made him stumble out of his cocky pose. "Everyone needs to drop it already! I'm not a fucking lesbo, so quit telling people I am." Santana turned to Rachel and pointed an angry finger at her. "If you tell a soul about any part of this conversation, I will _finish _you. Got it?"

She didn't need to wait for an answer to know Rachel would be a sheep and agree. Holding her bag by the handle at the top, Santana sulked away, taking out her frustration in her steps. Far behind she could hear Puck laugh, which only infuriated her more. Stupid, over confident _asshole_. What did he know anyway?

**:( Poor bb! She has to learn that she can't control people, though. They don't live by her rules, they live by their own. I think she just got a crash course in that lesson.**

**On a lighter note, HAPPY TUESDAY! Also known as 90 freakin' minutes of Glee awesomeness! I'm already in love with Unpretty/I Feel Pretty. Also, that green jacket Heather was wearing while filming in NY yesterday? I have been coveting that jacket for months. Lucky beezey...**


	3. Silent Stalemate

**Okay, I am beyond happy that Santana referred to herself as 'Tana on the show this week because I already have that written into this story. AHA! Now it's canon! And IMO Tana is a better nickname than San. I have never heard of a San, but I do know a few girls who shorten their name to Tana. Winnnn. But now back to the story...**

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><p>By Friday Santana was seriously worried. Brittany had given her the silent treatment all week and didn't seem to be giving in any time soon. She'd had lost count of the number of texts she'd sent and the calls that all went unanswered to a full mailbox. Britt's status was hidden on Facebook, so Skyping was probably out of the question. It was like she'd turned invisible, which sucked ass, but more importantly Santana was starting to feel lonely. She needed her Bee back.<p>

To add to her already craptastic week, Quinn had snaked Santana's spot as Head Cheerio. She'd always known Quinn was crafty, but the way the girl went about it was all kinds of wrong. Quinn had told Coach Sylvester about Santana's summer boob job in an attempt to defame Santana's good standing with Sue; it worked. As punishment Santana had been banished to the bottom of the pyramid. She was, as Sue decided, a safety precaution for if and when the human pyramid collapsed. Santana's new tits would cushion the fall. This usurpation of status lead to a significant chick-fight in the hallway; slut shaming, hair pulling, slapping, and pushing were all present.

Santana had stomped around school ever since. With a vengeance. If she was going to be miserable, so was everyone else. Losing her spot as Captain didn't mean she wasn't in control. She STILL owned that school. Santana started more fights between the couples that irked her most, she broke more rules to agitate her teachers, and she acted out in Glee and Cheerios practice. It wasn't that she wanted to start shit necessarily, but _everything_ just PISSED HER OFF. More than usual.

Twice already she'd attempted to slap Rachel Berry for being a bossy little bitch, but both times people had held her back. After the second attempt Puck had gotten super pissed with her for "trying to assault" his girlfriend, or whatever. He ignored her until she secretly apologized to Rachel for being a "crazy bitch." She'd promised to lay off, unfortunately.

In short, life was seriously sucking dick. Giant donkey dick. WITH Herpes.

* * *

><p>Brittany wasn't having any easier of a time. Above all, Santana was her best friend and that meant she relied on her to be there every day. Now, though, Santana had to learn her lesson. That meant no more talking to the Latina until things changed. Life had been boring ever since.<p>

A day without Santana was like a plain vanilla ice cream cone. Vanilla was nice and all, but it was super boring. There were no sprinkles or fun flavor to a vanilla ice cream cone. Just…vanilla, a standard that could be better. Life was better with a heaping scoop of Santana on a waffle cone. No, a chocolate dipped waffle cone with Oreo bits smushed all over the top. The thought made Brittany smile. One time over the summer they had decided to drive all the way to Finlay to get ice cream because Santana was in a driving mood and wanted to get away from everyone for the day. Brittany ordered a peanut butter cup ice cream cone with extra chocolate sprinkles when they finally got there. Excitedly, she'd dug right in and came back up with sprinkles stuck to the tip of her nose. Knowing how ridiculous she looked, Brittany made a face at Santana and crossed her eyes to see the mess on her nose better. When Santana laughed Brittany uncrossed her eyes. Her friend tipped her head to one side, smiled, and reached forward to pick off the few sprinkles on Brittany's face. It was cute and made Brittany smile back. That had been one of Santana's good days.

Brittany missed making Santana laugh, especially because she was the only one that did it right. Santana only kind of laughed with other people, but for real laughed with her. Plus, it was never AT her, just with her. That was the other big thing. Santana kept the jerks away. No one dared to make rude comments about Brittany's flirty, ditzy personality when Santana was around. The Latina protected her best friend with the fierceness of a lioness. NO ONE was allowed to mock Brittany. Ever. Everyone at school knew that if Santana ever found out they'd said something about her bestie, their reputation was caput. Brittany was untouchable by association alone. No one had attempted to cut her down even after the silent stalemate had begun. Clearly the threat of mauling still existed, but the missing constant reassurance of Santana's presence made school a little scarier.

Brittany needed Santana a lot, but being a secret was also really painful. It hurt in her chest and made it hard to concentrate on anything. She couldn't keep living off of quick little moments at school or the hours they spent locked away from their friends. She wanted their lives to be one big, long moment. Together for ever and ever. And proud. Until Santana saw this as clear as Brittany did, there would be no more "and" between their names.

No one knew quite what had happened, but the school hallways rang with the gossip that the infamous duo of Santana and Brittany was dunzo. Jacob Ben Israel tried repeatedly to flush out the details of the drama, but all knowing parties were refusing to talk. Even Rachel Berry was immune to his attempts now that she was dating Noah Puckerman, football wide receiver and scary self-proclaimed bad ass. If Jacob couldn't find out, no could. So, the students of McKinley lived in fear that Santana would take out her anger on them. Especially the blondes. They received a brunt of the Latina's wrath. She made no attempt at hiding her contempt for them at all, actually. Every blonde girl reminded her of the one blonde that wasn't there for her. They needed to disappear. All of them.

The wrath only got worse as the weeks went by.

* * *

><p>The girls began operating in awkward circles. It wasn't possible to avoid one another, not that either wanted to go that far, but talking was clearly out of the question. Not that Santana didn't try at first. She tried endlessly to spark up conversations and act like nothing was wrong, but something <em>was<em> wrong and all the pretending in the world wasn't going to fix that. Right after the fight Brittany studiously ignored Santana because she was still furious. No matter what her friend said, Brittany would brush her off and walk away, her demeanor cold and hurt. The lack of interest in Brittany's eyes was what got to Santana the most. She'd stopped caring that Santana was sorry. After weeks of angry silence the coolness of Brittany's response was replaced with pity. The Latina was still trying hard at that point because Brittany wasn't someone to give up on. When Santana would timidly say hello Brittany would turn to her, her eyes now sad, and just shake her head. Her heart broke a little more every time she did so. It hurt to see Santana, normally so strong, stumbling. Her posture slumped and her face fell each time Brittany refused to say hello back.

Soon Santana stopped trying as hard. What was the point of talking to a rock? A rock doesn't respond no matter how hard you try to interact with it. A rock is still, cold, and impenetrable. Despite her heartbreak, Santana attempted to function. She was angrier than anyone had ever seen her, but sad at the same time. She shuffled around school, a picture of perfection as always, but she didn't really see anything. Sometimes she went to class, but a lot of the time she didn't. When she did show up her teachers were merciless. They picked on her in the only way they could; they drilled her with questions they thought she couldn't possibly know. BUT she did know and answered in a drab monotone, more uncaring than ever. That was it. She'd stopped caring.

So long as no one got in her way the Latina was fine. She left them alone. The moment they impeded on her dazed state she snapped. Happy couples, pretty blondes, smarmy boys, and bossy bitches all made her snap. Once snapped, her sadness was replaced with rage. She belittled them to the point of harassment. Who were they to dare throw her depression in her face? Who gave them the right to be happy when she couldn't be? No one, that's who. Any form of pressure set her off and no one escaped unscathed. Santana had become a walking landmine.

Eventually she took Brittany's hint and stopped speaking to her at all. If that was what Brittany truly wanted, Santana could at least grant her that.

* * *

><p>"Shut the fuck up!" Santana yelled at the TV. Her parents had only been on vacation for three days and the house was already a mess. The moment they'd gone Santana had given the house keeper the week off so no one would be home to notice her lack of interest in her social life…or academics. She hadn't even bothered to leave the house that day. It wasn't the first time she'd ditched in the last few weeks.<p>

She'd showered like normal, laid out her Cheerio's uniform, and had started up her hairdryer when she realized she had no desire to go to school. So she didn't. Her hair air dried that day, which meant it bounced up into the waves she normally flat ironed into submission. Santana hadn't even gotten around to pants; she'd walked around the house all morning in a t-shirt and underwear.

Glancing over her shoulder at the enormously ugly wall clock in the foyer, she shrugged. 4 o'clock. Glee was just about over and Cheerios practice was starting soon. She was going to get bitched at two fold if she didn't get up. Whatever. She returned her attention to the TV. McDreamy and Meredith were "on" again and making a big stinking deal about it. Booooring. They were going to break up soon, anyway. "Fucking Lifetime…" she muttered and switched the channel. Degrassi was on. Santana was sworn to secrecy, but Brittany loved that show. There were too many seasons to catch up on and storylines that were relevant but over, though. It was too confusing to get into mid-series, so Santana changed the channel again. Daytime talk shows. That was better. Ellen DeGeneres was sitting in one of her cushy chairs talking to some chick about a book she wrote about eating disorders and coming out of the closet. Cool, kind of. Santana sank to the floor and stretched. For someone normally so active, a day on the couch was cramping up her legs, like, bad.

Santana was looking down at her calf as she massaged it when Ellen told her guest that she was beautiful, perfect the way she was, and very much loved. Glancing up, Santana read in Ellen's eyes so much appreciation that it almost hurt to watch. The woman seemed on the verge of tears. As the camera panned to the guest Santana's breath hitched. It was Portia De Rossi, Ellen's wife. She was easily one of the most gorgeous women on TV AND out. The Latina hadn't really paid attention when the media was making a big deal about De Rossi's sexuality because it hadn't concerned her. Now it captured her attention and for a brief moment she felt pride. But then her senses came back and she shamefully pushed down the thoughts. She raised her eyes to the high ceilings and sighed. "Irony. Not cool."

The clock said 4:12. What was Coach Sylvester going to say? What was she doing to punish the squad for Santana's absence? What was Brittany thinking? Would she be upset? Worried? Santana chewed her lip at the possibilities. So much drama…. She could just drive by. One of the streets surrounding the square block of the high school ran right past the practice field. She could just spy for a minute. Just to see what they were doing. A smirk spread across her face. Her keys and wallet were on the kitchen counter. She could be back before Ellen was even over…

She went.

Santana's Lexus slowed as it neared the field. The cheer squad was sprinting back and forth across the width of the field as Coach Sylvester perched atop a cherry picker and yelled at them through a bull horn. Even from the street she could see the pain on their faces. They'd been at this for a while now, clearly. Brittany was the easiest to spot, of course. Santana could pick her out of any crowd by the tones in her hair alone. Or the bounce in her step. Or the easy sway of her hips. Any of those. She looked miserable and it was all Santana's fault. Shit…. Santana hurried up her car and speedily crossed the rest of the length of the field before anyone noticed her. Brittany would recognize her car in a millisecond.

Rounding the corner Santana spotted another teammate that looked miserable. Except this one was alone and sitting on a long cement planter near the front doors. She would know what went down at school that day because she was nosey when it came to everyone else's business. That could be counted on. Santana made a right into the student lot and sailed over to the girl.

It took Rachel Berry a moment to realize a black car with blacked out windows was cruising towards her at an unsafe speed. It looked like a mafia car that people got kidnapped in. Maybe one of the defendants from either of her dad's cases was planning sweet revenge in the form of kidnapping their teenaged daughter. Her dads' devastation would force them to give up the case to a less qualified attorney and they would wallow in sadness at the status of their daughter's amber alert. As the car came to an abrupt halt her survival instincts took over. A loud, piercing scream permeated the air. Everyone within 100 feet stopped to stare. That was what you were supposed to do, right? Scream so someone would notice? She ducked and covered her head like in tornado drills as she squealed and hoped to god she wasn't going to die. There was still so much to accomplish in life. She was still cowering when a familiar voice yelled from the car.

"Berry…what the fuck are you doing?"

Rachel opened an eye to peek. She could see Santana Lopez leaning over the passenger seat through the opened window; she was at staring Rachel like she had grown two heads. Quickly Rachel sprang up and fixed her skirt.

"I um…I…"

"What was that supposed to be? This is only proof to me that you _do_, in fact, have severe mental issues."

"Your car _is_ a little intimidating" Rachel muttered defensively.

"Oh, so screaming like a girl would save you? You know, you would not last a single second in a zombie apocalypse."

"Because that's happening ever so soon. What do you want, Santana?"

"Get in" she ordered, hitting the unlock button. All the doors clicked in response.

"Yeah right" Rachel scoffed. "I'm not getting in any car with you."

Santana sighed and pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. "I don't have beef with you today, just so you know. I just have a couple questions to ask, then I'll safely take you wherever it is you need to go."

"I'm waiting for Noah. He's in practice."

Santana blandly snatched up her phone, typed a text, and dropped it back into the center console. "Now he knows where you are. Get in." Rachel shifted her weight uneasily. "Nothing's going to happen to you, Dwarf. Do you think Puck would ever let anything happen to you on my watch?"

"Well…"

"No. He'd kill me. Besides, I promised him I'd be nicer to you from now on because he's my boy. Now get in." Rachel raised her eyebrow. "_Please?_" Santana rolled her eyes and waited until Rachel moved towards the car. Upon opening the door the shorter girl paused.

"Are you…where are your pants?"

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><p><strong>I had to end this Chapter with a LOL because it was seriously making me sad. Also, I wrote it short and choppy because that's how Brittany and Santana's relationship is now. They exist in short little segments that have no resolution. These segments are also few and far between. It's like withdrawal. How do you learn to function without someone that you need? Santana truly needs her, whether she's strong enough to admit it or not.<strong>


	4. Theoretically

**SONGBIRD! OMG I hope it turns out the way we are all expecting it to. You lovelies in the East are already watching and I'm NOT going to cheat and watch the stream online. So I have 3 hours to go. As soon as this is uploaded I'm going to hide from the internet, especially Tumblr, because all you Tumblesbians are going to upset me with spoilers. THE MAGIC WILL NOT BE SPOILED!**

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><p>Still clad in a black t-shirt and panties, Santana strode into her living room carrying two glass bottles and a plate of mozzarella sticks. Rachel Berry still looked scared beyond belief and practically winced as Santana set the refreshments down with a heavy clank. It made Santana want to laugh, but literally laughing in Rachel's face would get her nowhere. Instead, she smiled to herself and sank into the love seat, kicking her long legs over the edge and twisting off the cap of her beer. For a minute she settled into watching the end of Ellen, but she could feel Rachel's eyes on her. Tilting her head back and to the side Santana looked at Rachel and made a mocking shocked face.<p>

"Dig in Vocal Mighty Mouse. The drinks are getting warm and the food is getting cold."

"I don't drink beer."

"This" Santana began, gesturing with the bottle in her hand, "is beer. That is _root_beer. I know you're too much of a Mary Sue to get drunk on a school day…afternoon…whatever."

"Oh. Thanks." Barely moving, Rachel picked up the bottle and sipped from it.

"You need to chill. I _told_ Puck I have no issue with you so I have no idea why you're freaking the fuck out right now. Maybe I _should_ get you that beer…"

"You're okay with me? He didn't tell me that."

"Of course not…" Santana scooted back and turned on her knees to face Rachel. "I'm not out to get you or anything like that. You're at the bottom of my list at the moment."

"List?"

"The list of all the crap that pisses me off."

"Oh." Rachel picked at the label on her bottle for a second before the flood gates opened and a trillion little asinine things came pouring from her mouth. "I was worried that you were out to get me now that I'm dating Noah because you guys have been on-again off-again since, like, 6th grade and I know you were mad about it at first because you threatened to destroy me several times but I was hoping you'd accepted it by now and you just reaffirmed that you have and it makes me so happy to…_blah blah blah_."

Santana was sure her eyes glazed over as Rachel rambled on and on for forever. Several sips into her beer Rachel was _still_ talking and, to be honest, Santana wasn't _that_ cool with her. She didn't want to have to endure all the nonsense that spewed from the girl's mouth like word vomit. The Hobbit took three paragraphs to say what anyone else could say in a single sentence. It was a complete waste of time that Santana could be better spending on thinking about how she'd fucked up her life. Since she was trying this new thing called "not being a complete demon to Rachel Berry" she attempted to wait the shorter girl out. It didn't work. So she "tried" to cut Rachel off at a good place, although it was clear there was no such thing as a good place when Rachel Berry was talking.

"…I was shocked when you asked me over because I assumed you-"

"Whatever. Anyway, not jealous, don't care, moving on. Glee. What happened today?"

"Not much. Mr. Schuester made us pair up via slips in the hat again and sing a song he chose at random. Something about being prepared for the unexpected, which makes no sense what so ever. Why would I ever be _unprepared_ for an unexpected chance to sing? Brittany said something about making sure to feed the duck in the hat to me, but I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. Everyone paired up but Noah because you weren't there…hey, why weren't you at school today?"

"I wasn't in the mood to deal today" Santana shrugged, blasé with her life.

"Brittany's still mad at you?"

"Not that it's _any_ of your business…"

"She showed up to rehearsal with Artie today. It was…odd" Rachel threw in shyly. Santana played with her hair to disguise how much the little fact had thrown her, but it was obvious she wasn't happy about it.

"Yeah? So what?"

"She rolled in sitting in his lap."

"Right…" Santana glared at the cap on the coffee table and crushed it with her bottle. "Glad to see _she's_ fine."

"You _know_ she misses you, Santana."

"Yeah, well that's all on her. She's the one that's refusing to even speak to me. And anyway, she clearly _doesn't_ miss me or else she'd let me try to make it up to her" Santana insisted, her words coming our harsher than she'd meant to. Everything she "knew" was being turned upside down. It was all so infuriating.

"She _does so_ miss you and you clearly return the sentiment. We can all tell."

"Look, I don't need some corny ass pity party, okay? Drop it."

"I'm just saying that you both miss each other."

"Well stop saying it, then."

"Okay."

"Good." Santana sank back into her spot and propped her feet on the arm rest. "Nosey ass mother fuckers" she mumbled quietly.

"She said it to me herself" Rachel bleated. When Santana snapped around Rachel hurriedly took a sip of rootbeer. Santana wanted to be irked, but her curiosity won her over.

"…what did she say?"

"She told me it makes her sad that she can't talk to you."

"Bullshit. She knows I'm here whenever she wants to call. _I'm_ not the one ignoring people."

"She really did seem sad about it. She talks a lot when she isn't paying attention in class and she told me during a Badminton rally in PE that she can't talk to you until you figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"I don't know. Just 'it' I guess."

"Fuckin' Britt" Santana sighed. She'd been trying to make things up to Brittany for weeks, but nothing even began to work. Brittany wouldn't even look at her and any words repelled off her like oil to water. Santana had been completely shut out and it only grew more and more depressing as the weeks morphed into months. It was really shitty luck that Rachel Berry knew even more about the situation than she did. "So I have to figure 'it' out and then she'll talk to me again. Probably about 'it', whatever 'it' is. Wonderful. You know, it's not like I wanted to hurt her feelings."

"What did you do, Santana?"

"That's none-"

"Of my business. I know. But I'm asking you again as someone you can vent to. I know you haven't talked about it with anyone, and my therapist has taught me a lot about expressing my emotions healthily. I can help you."

"What do you care?"

"Your fight is messing up the good vibes we have going on in Glee. Everyone was getting along okay for once and then you did something stupid and now everyone's irritable again. Mr. Schue is freaking out because he doesn't know if you're going to quit and Finn's being a baby and refusing to sing with me. We need another strong singer to take up the slack and you have now decided that you don't need to show up every day. We can't plan and practice around you when we don't know when you're going to make an appearance. We need you, Santana. As much as I don't want to admit this because it will make your ego even scarier, you're a really good singer. Seriously. You can tackle a wide range of music with your sound. Plus, you're an alto, and we have some good alto parts that need to be filled. If you stop showing up, Brittany has to do all of it for you and we all know how great she is with memorizing lyrics." Rachel paused to think for a moment. "Besides…no matter how backwards it came to be, you are a big reason why I'm with Noah now. He told me you were willing to help him win me over even though you disliked me. It's only fair that I care about you. I just wonder what happened to everyone. We were all doing so well."

"Summer happened, Rachel. The summer messed everyone up. You and Puck piss off Finn. Tina and Mike piss off Artie. Things haven't been okay at all this year."

"But you started all those things."

"Yeah, out of anger. But what's your point? I start shit, but I let the rest of you finish it. I didn't make you hook up with Puck, I didn't make Tina cheat on Artie. So don't blame it all on me. Britt is the real reason all of this shit started anyway."

"Started what?"

"All this lesbian drama." The words came flying out before Santana realized what she was saying. Now there was no way to take it back. She nervously played with her hair again. Pulling it up into a ponytail, she cursed herself, and then 30 seconds later pulled it down again.

Rachel didn't know what to say at first. Santana would be furious if she found out most of her friends were suspecting that anyway. One wrong word and the Latina would livid. There was no way Rachel was going to do that trapped alone with her in a house. She could practically feel the emotion oozing from Santana's pores, dying to escape. She had been holding in everything for so long and no one had any idea how much it was poisoning her. No wonder she flipped out all the time. The Latina didn't get visibly upset often, but when she did she became the ultimate drama queen. It even impressed Rachel. She had a feeling, though, that such a showy display of emotion embarrassed the girl. Hence the reason she spent days afterward reaffirming her reputation as a sexy badass. It would be good for her to let it go once in a while. Feeling wasn't such a bad thing. Right then she could see Santana retreating behind her curtains of sarcasm and bitchiness. Rachel reached out before it was too late. "You know, no one is going to care…if it's true."

"I'm _really_ not talking about this with you. I promised Puck I wouldn't try to hit you again, but it gets pretty hard sometimes."

"Oh shut up! Do you really think anyone cares who you like?"

"_Theoretically_, yeah, they do care. This is Lima, not California. They all care about what everyone else is doing…or who they are doing. It takes a lot of god damned work to be me and one little slip up is not going to be the cause of losing everything. I'm somebody now."

"In two years it won't make a difference who you were in high school."

"So what? Two years is a long time to be miserable."

"It's also a long time to closet yourself." Santana swallowed hard at how sure Rachel sounded. "My Dads met when they were still lying to everyone. They came out because lying everyday was just as miserable as not being with each other. It kills you inside, Santana. I know, and I can see it starting to happen to you. Since when do you give up on Brittany? Are you so desperate to hold on to something as trivial as popularity that you'll give up on her? Really? Because it seems to me that you just want to be _allowed_ to love her."

Santana's heart beat so hard that it pounded in her ears. Why was she having this conversation with Rachel Berry of all people? Why was it happening at all?

"So, _theoretically_ no one would care if I was supposedly into girls?"

"_Theoretically_? No."

"Just like no one cares about Kurt? He is harassed on a daily basis."

"People were picking on Kurt way before he came out. Just like you picked on me" Rachel muttered somewhat bitterly. "You're popular and pretty; I think you'd survive. Being gay isn't the end of the world."

"Stop saying that already."

"But…you just said…"

"I don't do labels." _At least not yet_. Santana rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes in frustration.

The two girls stared at each other in silence for a long time. Santana was feeling more caged in than ever and wanted nothing more than to make her confessions go away. Rachel was watching her carefully, equally as shocked as Santana. The Latina essentially hated her, so there was no reason for the onslaught of secrets to be dumped onto her. But they had been and there was no way to ignore them now. This was a Santana no one knew about. Not even Brittany.

Santana's phone buzzed on the coffee table, disrupting the quiet. It was Puck demanding to know what she'd done with his girlfriend. The smaller brunette's phone rang as Santana was typing out a reply.

"Hi, Noah" Rachel answered quietly.

Deleting the half finished message, Santana stood. "I need another beer." She shuffled into the kitchen, withdrew another Corona from the fridge, and pressed her head against the stainless steel door. What had she been thinking, confessing to Rachel? The words had just come spewing out, like Rachel's verbal vomit. Instead of returning to the living room, Santana cracked the bottle open in the kitchen and hopped up on the countertop. That way she wouldn't have to hear the awkward conversation that was going on in the other room. She knew Rachel was telling Puck about what had just happened, but would Puck tell? It was hard to say. He wasn't predisposed to be kind, but he _was_ her friend. That had to count for something.

Shit, the entire afternoon had become one big-ass awkward moment. She couldn't even yell at Rachel about any of it, mostly because the girl was right. She'd been feeling trapped and isolated more and more lately. It was so difficult to keep all the secrets inside and it starting to become physically painful. It now hurt to hear people say offensive, harsh things about the gay kids in the area because she was starting to identify with them. Whether she wanted to or not. Still, she had only thought the words, not said them. _I'm a lesbian_. The thought alone was terrifying. Gay. She was gay. Santana leaned forward and looked out the open kitchen door. No Berry in sight. Timidly she licked her lips and quietly tested the waters.

"Lesbian" she whispered to herself. "I…I'm a…oh shit." Santana took a shaky breath and sighed. "I'm…gay" she breathed, barely audible to even herself. Automatically her forehead crinkled in distress. She could feel her throat constricting and crackling inside. She put a hand to her chest to feel how hard her heart was pounding and panicked. A cold chill had overcome her and it didn't feel right. She didn't feel right. The words were making her so anxious that she didn't know how to stand it. Gay. Gay gay gay gay. She could think it just fine now, she'd been practicing for weeks, but saying it? Aloud? Not yet. Her inability to be her normal, confident self made her frustrated. She kicked her heel hard against the cabinet.

She should have been angrier about letting Rachel Berry in on the little bit of real self she'd offered up, but she was too damn tired to care. And confused. Rachel Berry could think of the day as her get out of jail free card because this one time Santana wasn't going to give her shit about being up in her business again. It was refreshing, though, to hear the truth for once. Rachel hadn't tried to force her to "be honest" or "admit it." Puck and Quinn did that all the time. Rachel just said what she thought and why she thought it. As brazen as her opinions were, they had reasoning behind them. Was she right, though? Was keeping it inside as damaging and Rachel said it was? Santana had a sick feeling the Hobbit was right. She _had_ been feeling more horrible about herself as each week came and went in silence. She could feel the pent up anger and sadness building and taking their toll on her health. Her hair was looking less than par and her skin was a bit ashen, too. Were they all symptoms? Stress could do that to a person, right? Stress. Ha. She was definitely stressed alright.

Suddenly Rachel's voice called from the hall. "Santana?" Santana listened to the footsteps go in and out of earshot, lost in the maze of rooms. The little bit of bitch left in her that day let the girl wander around, searching. Eventually a brunette head of neatly created curls popped around the door frame. "There you are. Noah will be here in a few minutes."

"Mmmkay" Santana hummed, not in the mood to talk anymore. She was still thinking the words. _Gay. Lesbian. Gay. Lesbian. Gay. Lesbian._

"Before he gets here, I just want to let you know that I won't say anything about…er…any of it."

"No?" Santana squinted her eyes in disbelief. "You don't want to spread rumors about me? I did it to you all the time."

"It's not right to out people, Santana. I'm not that mean."

"I am. I'm a bitch, didn't you know?"

"Um…I would call it strong willed?"

"No…I'm a bitch."

"Well, whatever you are, you'll do excellent as a lawyer. Or a CEO. Something like that."

Santana laughed at the thought. "You're okay, Berry." She smiled down at the condensation coating the bottle in her hands and ran a finger along the lip.

"So how are you going to fix 'it'?"

"I have no fucking idea."

"You should sing to her!"

"NO WAY! That is so syrupy. Besides, how do I make it up to her when I don't know why-" Santana's words were cut short by the sound of her doorbell ringing. Repeatedly. Rachel smiled and shrugged. "Theoretically! The whole thing is theoretical."

"Can we stop with that yet? I think its obvious that-"

"No, because that way it isn't real yet."

"Yes it is, you liar."

"Get the fuck out, Berry!" Santana thrust an angry hand in the direction of the front door, but a minute smile gave away her amusement with the shorter girl. Her callous exterior wasn't completely impermeable.

"Alright" Rachel laughed and backed away. Santana escorted her to the door, mostly to see Puck's reaction to her undressed state. He made some typical but unmemorable comment about a threesome which ticked Rachel off and made Santana laugh. After all, she was still his ultimate bro-with-boobs. She got it. As the couple turned to leave Rachel gave one last bit of advice.

"Call Quinn. I bet she knows. _She_ was at both practices today, unlike someone we know."

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><p><strong>I almost shit my pants last week when Santana's voiceover admitted that she was a lesbian. Not bi. Not pan. Lesbian. Halle-fucking-lujah! Homegirl makes my gay heart sing.<strong>

**Off topic: So I'm thinking about uploading this story onto my Tumblr, but I don't want it to get lost. I haven't really tried for any followers (I just follow you ;D), so it'll make me ultra bummed if I don't get any notes on it. The faves, alerts, and especially reviews on here make me want to update super fast for you guys. So keep it up! I really appreciate knowing there are people out that that are interested in this story. **

**So to Tumble or not to Tumble, that is the question.**


	5. Masks

**God, I finally have a chance to update properly! I'm gearing up for my last semester of school EVER and things are hectic right now. BUT YAY FOR GRADUATING!**

**Well on with it! This here chapter is probably the peak of angst for this story, but I think I closed with with some hope :)**

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><p>The next day was a Saturday, but simple things like weekends and holidays didn't stop cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester from holding emergency Cheerios practices when she thought it was necessary (which was all the time). Her orders were sent by automated mass text messaging which every Cheerio received. It read:<p>

Attn: Mandatory Emergency

Cheerio practice Saturday. Flabby

Cheerleads do not win Nationals.

Abs of steel win Nationals.

Saturday, 8 am – exhaustion.

Santana showed up early Saturday morning to both suck up to Sue for skipping practice the day before as well as hopefully getting a chance to talk to Quinn before the others arrived. She paused in front of the exclusive Cheerios locker room to collect herself and put on the stoic bitch face she normally wore around school. She needed to seem especially confident that day. Looking down, she double checked her clothes. For weekend practices Sue let them wear Cheerio-issued sweat pants or shorts and t-shirts instead of the practice uniforms they normally wore (which were just last year's uniforms in full.) Under her Varsity jacket Santana rolled down her gray sweatpants so they sat low across her hips and fell dangerously below the little dimple in her lower back above her ass. Down the length of her right leg was the word "Cheerios" in big red varsity lettering and on her left hip was the McKinley logo. The white t-shirt was a "Cheerio Athletic Property" design typical to most school organized sports. All the girls had purposely shrunk their t-shirts in the school washing machines so they would fit snug in the bust and come up short on their stomachs. What came out of the dryer was a mass of toddler sized baby Ts that were inappropriately tight. Sue didn't mind because it meant her Cheerios had to be fit to pull off the look. Anyone who didn't was subject to "fatty" remarks. On the backs the girls had painted their names, or nick names in some cases. As she did when most people tried to put her down, Santana adopted the harsh names Sue had for her and turned it around. The back of her shirt said "Boobz McGee" in big fat letters. She'd also painted little dots in the centers of the double O's to represent nipples. Yup. That's just how Santana Lopez rolled.

With a last deep breath she glided into the locker room and over to her station. In this locker room each Cheerio had an entire section dedicated to her which included: a vanity counter and mirror; a stock of Sugar Free Redbull, water, and 5-hour-energy; and a red full length locker custom painted with the McKinley Titans logo and the owner's last name blocked out in black, white, and gold. Santana's station was in the corner, allowing for extra room. Quinn's was kitty-corner to hers. The blonde cheer captain was the only other person in the room.

"Hey, Q" Santana greeted blandly, her practiced face in place.

"Santana! Why…you're here?"

"Yeah…" Santana eyed the girl oddly and dropped her black duffle bag onto the bench. "Of course I am. There _is_ practice today, right?"

"Well, yes, but…you got the text?"

"What is the matter with you? Forget to pop an Adderall? Of course I got it."

"…this is so awkward…"

"_What_?" Santana cried, irritated with Quinn's lack of clarity.

"You just missed Sue. She came in to tell me that you weren't going to be here today."

Santana put her hand on a jutted hip and cocked an eyebrow. "Meaning…"

"Santana…Coach Sylvester is suspending you." Santana watched Quinn blankly. What did she _mean_ suspended? It had to be a joke. Granted, it was a lame joke, but still. The cheer Captain picked at her thumbnail and didn't dare look up.

"Wait. Are you fucking serious right now?"

"She knows you weren't in the hospital yesterday like you said you were."

"I had a note!"

"From your _dad's_ office stationary. Santana, we all saw you drive by yesterday."

"I don't know what you're talking about" the Latina quickly retorted, crossing her arms in defiance.

"You are the _only_ person in Lima that drives that murderous looking gangster car."

"Shit…"

"Yeah, shit."

"SHIT!" Stomping her foot, Santana picked up her duffle and slammed it down again. "For how long?"

Quinn swallowed and met the Latina's eyes. "Indefinitely."

"Oh my god." Santana sank onto the bench, her anger draining and replacing itself with panic. "Indefinite? For just one practice? That is _so_ unreasonable."

"It hasn't been just one, Santana. You've missed several in the last month alone. Plus Sue was a terror yesterday. Her Swedish spring water budget got cut so the Photography Club could buy more chemicals or something. It just wasn't a good day to make her mad."

"Ohokaygreat. Just effing wonderful. Wha…well…so what?" Santana stuttered, too worked up to bother sounding coherent.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably. She _really_ didn't want to be doing this, especially to Santana of all people. "You're not allowed to participate in Cheerios related events. No practice, no rallies, no games…and no uniforms."

"WHAT?"

"She's banned you from wearing your uniform in public. I'm supposed to confiscate it…" Quinn shrugged and looked at her sneakers. "You're letterman jacket, too." Santana hugged her jacket closer to her. Like hell she would. Bitchface could rip it from her cold, dead hands first. "I'm not going to, so you can stop giving me the eye of death now." Santana relaxed her grip. "I'm sorry. I know I've been on your hit list after the captain thing, but I feel horrible. Like…I don't know what to say to even try and make it better."

Santana laughed bitterly. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What am I supposed to do now?" Santana could feel her grip on composure slipping. The more she thought about it, the more depressing the situation became.

"She'll get over it and let you come back. She needs you, me, and Britt. We're her holy trinity of Cheerios. Just think of this as a tiny vacation? You can eat whatever you want for now!"

"Cheer is all I have left, though" Santana moaned, ignoring the bit of hope Quinn had tried to give her.

"There's still Glee. We're here for you. You could start coming every day again. It'll be fun."

"But Brittany is in Glee." Santana dropped her gaze to her pristine white Nikes with red piping and swoosh. "It's too hard to be around her every day when she won't even look at me." Quinn grimaced. She hadn't seen how awkward the suggestion could be. No one dared to say it, but Brittany was Santana's weak spot. Now that they weren't speaking, Santana was flailing. She didn't know how to be herself without Brittany there to balance her out. Santana was always snarky, but Brittany's bubbly personality always brought her down a couple notches. With a look Brittany could have Santana laughing and over her drama. Obviously that wasn't happening so much anymore. The other Gleeks had speculated that Brittany would be the one having the harder time because Santana was the leader of the duo. Without direction, what would she do? To see that Santana was taking it the hardest defied everyone's expectations.

It was really both amazing and saddening how pride could be such a great mask. Santana seemed fine at school. She was still confident, flirty, and clearly tough if the fight she'd gotten into last week was any indication. Still, there was something amiss with the girl. It was almost like a lack of will. She existed and acted the same, but there was no drive behind her cunty comments. Her sarcasm was a shell hiding a lost person. A mask. Talk about identity crisis. Quinn scooted closer to Santana and hesitantly placed a hand on her semi-friend's back. At that point Santana could have taken one of two routes. She could have jumped up, climbed back into her suit of faux confidence, and stormed away; she also could have accepted the gesture. Luckily she was so forlorn that she'd allowed for the latter. Quinn's hand began moving in small, soothing circles. Santana sucked in a shaky breath. It was the first comforting touch she'd felt in weeks.

"Has she talked about me at all?" Santana blurted out of the blue. She turned her face hopefully to Quinn, all the strain of the last couple of months _very_ apparent in her dark eyes.

"Of course. She talks about you all the time."

"Did she tell you why this is happening? Why she acts like I've stopped existing?"

"A little bit."

"Will you tell me what she told you?"

Quinn pulled her head back in surprise. "I'm sure you know more about it than I do."

"I have NO idea what she wants me to do" Santana lamented, her voice low and breathy. "She wants me to fix 'it' but I'm not sure what that means. I can't make things better if I don't know." Santana let out a pathetic groan and dropped her head. She bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling. Quinn noticed this and prepared for the dramatic outburst she knew was coming. "What do I do without her, Quinn? I'm alone. All the time. I just don't know what she needs to hear. Whatever it is, I know I'll say it. I want to say it. I want to give her what she wants."

_I…I…I_. The selfishness in Santana's dilemma irked the blonde Cheerio. "Look, it's not just one thing she wants you to fix, but hundreds of little things. You do all you can to hide everything from everyone. All the time. Like, you can't be yourself. You put up this stupid front and hardly anyone knows who you are anymore. I barely know you now and I knew you before you cared about anyone at this school. Before you and Britt were fooling around." Santana's eyes grew three times their normal size at the omission. Quinn just shook her head. "I had a feeling. Anyway, it's not a big deal Santana. I didn't care then and I don't care now."

Santana shook her head in wide-eyed shock, but shrugged. "I like my privacy."

"Well good for you" Quinn scolded with a glare. "Did you ever think that it's hurting Brittany? She doesn't like being your shameful little secret, Santana. It makes her cry."

The truth shocked Santana into jumping up and backing away. She made Brit-Brit cry? There was _nothing_ shameful in Brittany. Not a damn thing. She was the most wonderful, gorgeous person in the history of people. Ever. She was her Bee. All the sorrow and guilt multiplied over and over in Santana's chest, making it harder and harder to keep control. She had nothing left to fall back on. Nothing. She could see her life crumbling away piece by piece. No Brittany, no Cheerios, no family at home, no Glee. Nothing.

Then the most dismaying thing happened

Santana stood with her back against the locker and all she could feel was the ennui bubbling to the surface. Her nerves were raw, ready to burst. Outside, she knew she looked a mess; she could read it on Quinn's face. As she tried to swallow the feeling of hopelessness her throat constricted and crackled. Her eyebrows drew together in concern. There was a stinging pain manifesting itself behind her eyes and no matter how much she willed it away, the feeling only grew. She knew what this was and what was coming. It had been happening a lot lately. Santana gasped and tried to choke down her feelings, but it was too late. She felt her eyes well up. Quinn looked on, embarrassed.

"Santana…" she tried to comfort, standing from her seat on the bench. The two girls locked gazes and held them in silence. Quinn watched helplessly as Santana's eyes pooled with tears. Maybe she shouldn't have been so harsh with her. "…I'm sorry."

The pity in Quinn's voice pushed Santana's weak hold on composure over the edge. All of a sudden an intense flood of emotion came pouring out. Tears that had only threatened to fall finally streamed down her cheeks, dripping off her nose and jaw onto her shirt. She gasped for air, but only managed to choke herself. First only a small squeak permeated the silence, but then a loud sob escaped her. She sucked in her breath to prevent a repeat occurrence, but it was already too late. Another heart wrenching cry echoed across the vast room. Then another. Body wracking sobs overtook Santana's small frame, shaking her shoulders and knees. She buried her face in her hands to try and block out the humiliation, but there was nothing left to be done. She was too far gone. Awkward at first, Quinn ran her hand lightly up and down Santana's arm. When the usually composed Latina let her body collapse into Quinn's, the head Cheerio switched over to motherly mode. "I miss her" Santana keened, finally lamenting over her mistakes. "I need her like air and now I think I'm suffocating." Quinn held her tighter and tried to hug away the loneliness.

"Tana?" The sound of _her_ voice ebbed the tears just enough for Santana to look up and see a majority of the squad entering the locker room; Brittany was at the lead. Now even more mortified, Santana fled. With a hand clamped over her mouth to hold in the shameful sobs, Santana quickly forced her way through the mass of bodies. Some stepped away before she could push them. "Santana! Wait!" Brittany called, but the Latina didn't hear it through the ringing in her ears. It was the most Brittany had said to her in nearly two and a half months.

With a flash of a swinging ponytail Santana disappeared. Brittany turned on Quinn in an instant. "What have you done?" she yelled, shocking Quinn. Brittany NEVER got mad. Especially not enough to make her yell. Santana's state had _really_ hit a nerve. People thought Santana was tough, but did no one realize how completely _soft_ she was? Santana's emotional side could be triggered by the simplest things, and often brought her to tears. Granted, most of the time she hid her feelings in bathroom stalls, but Brittany was always there to comfort her until she calmed herself. Part of Brittany wanted to run after Santana and comfort her then, but the other determined part of her needed to leave her best friend alone. Doing nothing was hellish, though; it made Brittany feel useless. She took out the frustration on Quinn. "What did you say to her?"

Quinn had so many answers to Brittany's question, but the entire squad didn't need to know the Brittany/Santana drama enfolding. "She's been suspended from all Cheerio activity until she can act like part of a team again" Quinn answered simply, just waiting for the arguments to come. A chorus of gasps filled the air and sent the room buzzing. Many of the girls shot hateful looks at Quinn. Not all of them had wanted her back as their captain. Santana's reign had been catty at times, but her knack for bargaining and control had been a good buffer between Sue and the team. Quinn's lack of authority when it came to Sue made being a Cheerio feel more stressful. "Hey!" Quinn squeaked, putting up her hands in surrender. "Sue said it, not me! She told me that since Santana has no problem with lying and not showing up for practices she doesn't need to participate anymore. She isn't allowed to be a part of the team when she can't be part of the machine behind it. Then Santana showed up! What was I supposed to do? I _had_ to tell her."

The girls glared and some hatefully suggested Quinn stick up for her teammates once in a while, but slowly they backed down and went about getting ready. All but Brittany. She was still staring Quinn down, concern and confusion competing in her head. Santana was devastated, Brittany knew. The last time Cheerios practice had been cancelled for a week, Santana broke down in tears in the middle of the school hallway. Who knew what was going to happen now that she was suspended from the squad? Quinn widened her eyes at Brittany, a silent message, and held out Santana's duffle bag. "Hurry up!" she ordered frantically. _Go to her_ she mouthed. That little bit of reassurance was all Brittany needed to tip the scale. She snatched the bag from Quinn and bolted from the room.

Brittany found her standing next to her car, looking at her reflection miserably in the tinted glass. Santana's arms hugged her jacket tight around her tiny frame as the last of the cool morning air disappeared. She wasn't sobbing anymore, but the frequency of how often she wiped at her cheeks said the tears hadn't dried yet. Brittany's breath hitched in her throat. Santana looked awful. Normally she was so put together. Perfect. But now? Not so much.

"Honey?" Brittany called, reverting to pet names for Santana's sake. "Tana, are you okay?"

The Latina quickly spun around. Relief etched itself all over her face when her eyes took in the sight of Brittany coming towards her. She met the blonde halfway.

"You left your bag" Brittany said, the lightness of her voice music to Santana. She'd missed the cheerful tones behind everything Brittany said.

"I know. I couldn't leave because my keys are in the pocket."

"Quinn told us about what Sue did." Santana's features darkened immediately. "It's totally not fair."

"Whatever. My life is shit anyway." _Without you_ she wanted to add but didn't. Brittany caught on to the undertones regardless. She knew Santana too well not to. She could read every emotion on her friend's face. The crease in her forehead? It said life is hurting. The scrunched chin? She was forcing herself NOT to cry. The slight dimple in her left cheek? Thank god you're here right now.

"I know it's hard" Brittany said, frowning. "It's been hard for me too. For a long time now." Santana silently nodded and looked down. A few tears hit the ground, leaving little wet splatter marks.

"I've been trying, Bee, but it's been hard to figure out what you want from me. You won't talk and I can't start to make it better when you refuse to acknowledge me. Quinn finally told me what you've been admitting to her." Brittany took a surprised step back. Santana closed the gap instinctively. "I'm…" she tried, her voice wavering. "I didn't know…" She looked into Brittany's blue eyes, her weak-link, and hiccupped a sob. "I make you feel shameful?" Santana cracked on the words, herself ashamed with her behavior.

Brittany bit her lip and nodded. The simple truth made Santana want to cry again. Without waiting for permission she launched herself at her soulmate and wrapped her arms around the girl's neck. The two stumbled back a few steps, but Santana refused to let go. There were no words for what it felt like to have Brittany against her again. It was something akin to hope and warmth. Brittany didn't move at first, but the comforting feeling of Santana's body against hers and her familiar scent made Brittany's reserve melt a little. She fit as much of herself inside Santana's jacket as possible, her hands looping around the Latina's back, and settled into the warmth. Her hands smoothed over the exposed strip of skin between the bottom edge of Santana's tiny white cheer shirt and the rolled down waistband of her sweat pants. It was only a 5 or 6 inch band of skin, but that tiny bit of toned, tanned Santana crackled under her fingertips. It made Brittany shiver. Frission, she liked to call it.

Santana sighed at the feel of Britt's touch and buried her face into the crook of her other half's neck. They each pulled tighter. "I'm so, _so_ sorry, Bee. I miss you."

Brittany wanted to cry. It would be so easy to fall back into how it used to be, but that would mean all the pain would have been for nothing. It hurt all over again to make the comfort stop, but she had to so they could be better next time. There _would be_ a next time.

"Sorry doesn't fix things" she said, pulling away but not fully letting go. "I'm still mad at you. It really hurts my feelings when you get mad and push me away because you're embarrassed." Santana opened her mouth to immediately rebut, but for once Brittany wasn't having it. She placed a finger gently on Santana's lips, effectively silencing her. "All I want to do is to be with you, but you won't let anyone know that I love you." The words flowed so naturally that she knew it was true. She loved her. She'd loved her for a really long time. At first as friends, then as best friends, now as lovers? She wasn't sure what they would call themselves, but lovers sounded like a good name. Santana, on the other hand, looked scared beyond belief. But at least she wasn't panicking yet. "The worst part is that I know you care about me too, but whenever I try to bring it up you freak out and hook up with someone you don't even like. Like…you'd rather be with people you don't care about than admit that you care about me at all. I just don't get it, Tana, and I don't know how much more of it I can take." Brittany leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against Santana's temple. The Latina closed her eyes and savored the feeling. "I don't want to leave you like this, but I gotta go soon. If I don't, Coach Sylvester will punish me too."

"Okay" Santana mumbled, too overloaded with thoughts, sounds, and smells to fight her on it. "I'm going to make it better, Britt. I promise."

"You better" was all she said as she reluctantly removed herself from Santana's jacket.

Santana watched Brittany slowly back away and wave before disappearing into the athletics building. She stood motionless for a while digesting what had been said. The "you better" had sounded hopeful and yet so desperate at the same time. And then she'd kissed her. Kind of. Clearly Brittany hadn't given up. She wanted Santana to fix the situation she'd created for herself so they could be together. But what did that entail? And what did Santana need to do to prove that she could do it? Brittany seemed to have faith, otherwise she wouldn't have stuck around for so long, apparently waiting for Santana to grow up. The thought made her smile. _Brittany_ of all people was telling her to be an adult. There was hope yet.

Now she just had to make it happen. But how? It had to be real and it had to be obvious. It had to be something that proved that Santana needed her, not just to Brittany, but to anyone who could listen. Would listen. Santana had a sinking feeling she knew what Brittany was asking. She wanted her to make a public declaration, to let all the doubters know what they were: in love. Her anxiety rocketed back up to extraordinary levels. Everything would change, not necessarily for the better, and she could lose it all in the process. Santana took in a breath to calm herself. But it was for Brittany. Britt would do anything for her. She was fucking waiting, for christ's sake, even though Santana was a dense idiot. She'd lived in a delusional bubble for so long that she hadn't stopped to notice that Brittany had been getting _un_happier. Yet the blonde was _still_ giving her a chance. Brittany was worth the risk.

Santana dragged herself to her car, reluctant to do what came next. It was time to call Rachel Berry back.

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><p><strong>Oh god Santana, what are you thinking? Poor girl doesn't know what she's getting herself into. Just you wait. Next chapter expect Santana to give advice on: candles, the importance of open windows, and peeing. Oh yeah...I'm going there with this one.<strong>

**For anyone interested, I did end up uploading this story to my Tumbr. If you want to get updates on there, feel free to follow me. I put a link up in my profile, but I'm found at **neversonbabies (dot) tumblr (dot) com**. **

**Also, I'm having a dilemma deciding where my other Brittana fic _I Have a Confession to Make_ will go, so I'm taking advice if anyone wants to offer it up. Either in the reviews of that story or on Tumblr. Anons welcome in both.**


	6. Ping

**Laaaame! So the GLAAD awards aren't streaming and now I don't get my Naya fix. I'm going to be sitting at my computer for ages just in case, so I decided to update while I'm wasting time. YAY!**

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><p>Having to ask Rachel Berry for a little help was like asking a WOW nerd to explain the game in one sentence; it wasn't possible and you regretted the request almost instantly. If Santana called Rachel she would be swamped with sheet music and an iPod full of playlists categorized by song meaning, tempo, and vocal range. The Latina didn't have the time or energy to deal with it. She needed real, subjective help that was to the point. Those needs did not match what Rachel would provide. However, no one knew how to publicly make a sappy, lovey-dovey scene like Rachel–Loudmouth-Berry. Avoiding the onslaught of choices was Santana's main objective in approaching Rachel for help out of the blue. She needed the song selection process to be quick and dirty, like kinky sex. So, she didn't let Rachel know she was on the way.<p>

As Santana turned into the development Rachel lived in she noticed something that made her eyebrows raise about three feet. At the corner of the cross street was a truck that looked _exactly_ like Puck's newly painted burgundy pick-up. Morning dew coated the shiny new paint and pooled in the bed at the back; the truck had been there all night. Now, Santana just _knew_ Rachel's parents weren't cool with juvenile delinquent boys sleeping in their daughter's bed, which meant Puck was there in secret. Hence his truck being on another street. Despite her melancholy reason for being in the area, the thrill of drama sparked a little shot of adrenaline to her brain. The Lexus picked up speed as it neared Rachel's house.

Her timing was a little off, though. As Santana came to a stop in front of the house, the font door cracked open and Puck slipped out. Rachel's head stuck out the door after him and leaned in for a kiss goodbye. Not caring that he looked whipped, Puck grinned and happily bent over to reach. Neither noticed Santana emerge from her car.

"How fucking cute" she goaded, trudging up the stone path. The couple broke apart in surprise. "Hurry it up, the neighbors might see." Santana stopped at the bottom step, hands in her jacket pockets, and crossed one foot over the other. Irritating as she was, Santana was right. The neighborhood watch would be on his ass in a heartbeat. Puck kissed Rachel once more on the top of the head and left, a bounce in his step. As he passed Santana he nudged her shoulder to say hello. She smiled and bumped him back. "Get going lover boy." The girls watched him walk away, Rachel beaming. "Having a good morning, Munchkin?" Santana teased.

Rachel blushed and nodded. "The question is, what are you doing here?"

"You're going to help me show Brittany that I'm not a total piece of shit and that I'm sorry."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Rachel asked, remembering Santana clearly shooting down her idea last time.

"Britt doesn't care if people laugh because she does what makes her happy. It defeats the purpose of this whole thing if I don't do something because _I_ find it corny as fuck."

"And…"

"I'm going to sing for her in Glee."

The sound of Rachel's giddy squeal made several dogs go into barking frenzies down the street. Santana cringed. It was going to be a _very long day_. Rachel bounced on her toes and swung the door open wider so her new guest could come in.

The Berry house was nice in almost the exact opposite ways of Santana's house. While her own home was much more contemporary and geometric, Rachel's house was very classic American. Her dads were clearly fans of rich hues and dark woods. Dark, chocolate sofa sections separated the living room from the dining room in the open floor plan of the bottom floor. There were also A LOT of plants, Santana noted, and all of them were alive too. It felt…weird. Like, she knew Rachel's dads made a lot of money, but their house didn't look nearly as opulent as it could be. Her own dad, when his plastic surgery practices blew up client-wise, had gone to great means to enjoy his money. That included a huge house no one really stayed in.

Santana stepped awkwardly into the house and finally got a good look at Rachel. She burst into laughter almost immediately. Rachel was _tore up_. She only wore an oversized t-shirt, whose stretched neck line fell over one shoulder, and a pair of worn suede slipper moccasins. The lack of shape to her was a stark contrast to her normal fitted skirts and sweaters. Her hair, though, was the epitome of sex hair. It sat bunched and knotted on the right side and back of her head. It made Santana laugh even louder.

"Shhhh!" Rachel hissed, moving to put a hand over Santana's mouth. The taller girl slapped the hand away and silenced herself. Who _knew_ what that hand had been doing? "My dads are sleeping!" Rachel whispered.

Santana raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You're banging the boyfriend while your parents are asleep? Brava! I'm impressed, Berry. Someone's turning into quite the slutty-slut-slut."

"I am not!"

"Shh! Shut up, it's not a bad thing to like sex. I love it."

"Well keep your voice down. My dads are sleeping. They got home really early this morning from-"

"Doooon't care" Santana interrupted, looking around. "So, where's your room?"

"Upstairs. I'll show you."

Rachel led the way up the stairs and down a hallway to the right. At the end of the hallway she opened a door. "Right here." Rachel darted in before Santana could get a good look and buzzed around fixing things and picking up last night's clothes. One of Puck's plaid button-ups hung from the back of her dressing chair. Rachel straightened it, but let it be. He'd be back to get it very soon anyway. The Latina stepped into the room and closed the door. Two seconds later she grimaced and went to the window.

"Jesus fucking Christ. Rachel, you _suck_ at sneaking around."

"What do you mean?" she asked, stuffing her discarded clothes into a white wicker laundry basket. "Brittany said that too." Rachel realized two seconds too late that bringing up Brittany would bring a sad look to Santana's face. "Sorry…."

"It's whatever…but your room wreaks of fucking." Santana threw the window open so the room could air out. "AND your hair makes you look like a harlot." Rachel rushed to her mirror, took one look, and tried to frantically brush out the knots. "Hey, chill. Just always remember to open a window. Also, candles don't just look sexy, they hide some of the smell too."

"…really?"

"Yeah." Santana eyed Rachel curiously and cocked her head to the side. It made sense that she didn't know anything. There was no one to tell her. She had no friends, let alone friends who got any. This was one thing Santana knew a lot about. "And don't forget to pee."

"Wh…excuse me? Why is that relevant?"

"Because you'll get a nasty UTI and it'll suck balls." Rachel made a concerned face. "Just do it." The shorter girl shifted her weight from one leg to the other, then back again. Santana rolled her eyes. "Go." Rachel sheepishly shuffled to her bathroom, emerging after a flush and running water. Santana was still on the topic. "You know those red pills you see girls taking at school sometimes?"

"Yes."

"They're cranberry pills. _They_ don't pee. Suuuucks for them."

"Thanks, Santana."

"Now we're even and I don't owe you shit." Santana tried to look like a hardass, but it was kind of nice to be nice once in a while. Although, the Latina had no immediate plans to do it again. She snatched up Rachel's TV remote and parked herself in the middle of the floor while Rachel finished fixing her room. When the TV pinged on it tuned into the middle of a Degrassi marathon on TeenNick.

"Do you watch this show?" Rachel asked, tucking her comforter under the mattress.

"Not really. Britt always tries to make me watch it." Santana laughed to herself. "If she wasn't at practice right now she'd be watching too." That was when Rachel noticed Santana's cheerleading sweatpants and varsity jacket.

"Hey, why aren't you at practice too?"

Santana bit her lip, frowning. She'd been doing so well at swallowing her feelings, too. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Okay…"

"Kay."

"I'm done now." Rachel peered proudly at her re-organized room. "I'll just take a quick shower and we can get started. Ooh! I'm so excited for you! Aren't you excited?"

"Yay" Santana deadpanned and twirled a lone finger.

"I'll be back in a second."

Santana watched Rachel flounce into the bathroom and lock herself in again. It wasn't too late to ditch…but this was about Brittany, not herself. Damn. As she continued to watch Degrassi she began to identify faces that she recognized. The kid in the wheel chair _really_ looked like Drake and a couple of the cheerleader chicks looked familiar, too.

Santana scanned the room for a computer and, when she located it, went to the desk and booted it up. The screen pinged and flashed bright, then contemplated on how quickly it would load. Santana turned her attention back to the TV while she waited.

The storyline seemed interesting enough, considering it revolved around the cheerleaders. Cheerleader A didn't want Cheerleader B on the squad because she was a baby momma, but Cheerleader C was insisting it would be okay and making B show up to the rally to prove it. Baaaad idea. If anyone ever pulled shit like that with her, Santana would cut a bitch.

Cheerleaders A and B were the two that looked familiar, but Cheerleader C was the one that had Santana's attention. She was gorgeous, her smile enthralling. "Manny" was a weird name for a girl, but she could look past that and focus on her dimples.

A girl fight was ensuing when one of Rachel's dads popped his head into the room.

"Good morning…princess…whoareyou?" he rambled, still half asleep.

Santana bit back a laugh and smiled. "Hey, I'm Santana."

"Santana?" Mr. Berry paused and scrunched his face. He'd heard that name before, but never in a positive light. "I'm sorry. Is there another Santana at your school? The only one I've ever heard about is…"

"A bitch?"

"Well…"

"Yeah, that's me, but it's cool. Rachel is going to help me out with school stuff when she gets out of the shower."

"Okay…"

Santana swiveled in the chair to turn back to the computer, but Mr. Berry didn't move. "I, uh…I'll tell her you came by."

"Okay. Thanks."

He slowly left, looking back once as he headed towards the other end of the hallway. Santana smirked and turned back to the computer once more. She clicked over to a movie database and searched the show. "Darcy" and "Mia" were familiar because they were on other shows now and "Jimmy" _was_ Drake, but Manny was what Santana was really after. In the message boards someone posted a youtube video, linking her over to "Cassie Steele's" channel. She'd prepared to hear a whole bunch of noise and ended up listening to songs that weren't half bad. The girl could sing, Santana had to give her that. Her acoustic live sessions were the best of the bunch by far. She could do that. She _should_ do that.

Santana was youtube linking other acoustic covers when Rachel came out of the bathroom, followed by a billow of steam and perfumed air.

"Great waste of electricity, Santana" Rachel scolded, shutting off the TV. "I'm not going to bother complaining about you using my computer without asking."

"Come here and listen to this." Santana switched over to the tab with the song and watched Rachel's face as it played. Quite the professional, Rachel was silent with her critique until she'd watched it twice through, her eyes and ears straining to pick up the inconsistencies. "Well?" Santana asked.

"She has a lot of potential. Rough, but good. She falls back on the rasp in her voice when she's straining, but over all she's good. She's pretty too. Who is she?"

"A chick on that show" Santana answered, pointing at the now lifeless TV.

"Hmm…can she dance too?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. There's nothing on youtube."

"Not a threat" Rachel said happily and sat on her bed to comb her wet hair.

"Good for you, but what do you think for me?"

"You want to sing _that_ in rehearsal? No one's heard of it."

"Not that song exactly, but something like it. An acoustic cover."

"Hmm. I wouldn't expect it from you."

"Then it's perfect, isn't it?" Rachel smiled at Santana finally taking charge; it was a good sign that she was finally on the right track. "I think I want to go with Norah Jones. It's sexy."

"Are there tabs or sheet music for it?"

"Umm…that's what Puck's for" she said matter of factly.

"Noah? You're going to ask Noah to play with you?"

"I dunno. It'll look like I'm trying harder if I ask our friends for help, you know? Like, I'm getting people she likes on board too."

"Santana…" The Latina gritted her teeth in preparation for Rachel to take over. "This is going to be so cute!" With a laugh Rachel semi-hugged Santana. Santana sat frozen in the desk chair until Rachel pulled away. Had the Dwarf just _hugged_ her? Shit was getting too personal.

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><p>Santana parked her car and sank into her cushy leather seats. Could she just sit there all day? At least she'd be skipping school <em>on<em> school property this time. It would be an improvement! …yeah right. She wouldn't be able to get away with skipping this time. Her parents were back at work and the school would call if she was missing again. She watched other students walk by, so at ease in jeans and t-shirts. How did they do it? Santana hadn't worn regular clothes to school in nearly two years and it was already feeling awkward. She longed for the safety of her starched and pressed Cheerio skirt. A couple of Cheerios and football players were loitering near the flag pole, one of the chosen spots on campus. No one cold congregate there but the Jocks and their cheer counterparts. It was an unwritten rule.

After psyching herself out twice, Santana emerged from her car and made her way towards the group. Some guy cat-called, a thick necked asshole that couldn't tell his left from his right, as she weaved between the abandoned cars. Not. Cool. In a quick movement she flicked her hair and looked over her shoulder to give the eye of death. "Watch it" she growled, narrowing her eyes. She knew it was an effective move, she'd practiced it enough to be sure. The guy did a double take. Without the uniform and ponytail, he hadn't recognized her. Thinking about it, though, that tight ass had looked really familiar. He put his hands up, the universal sign of surrender, and let her go on her way in peace. An angry Lopez was always the same, uniformed or not.

As she neared the flagpole the Cheerio girls gasped. Santana inwardly braced herself. Bitchface? Check.

"Santana! We heard!"

"Yeah." Santana looked down at her outfit. She'd played it safe for the day, kind of like testing the waters. What did girls wear to school, anyway? She'd never paid attention before. Since it was getting a little colder, she was able to wear jeans. Jeans were always safe, right? There were black slim fits that rested close to her legs, but didn't shrink-wrap them. Skinny but not too skinny. Her legs were so thin that skinny jeans made her feel like a twig. She didn't need anorexic rumors going around about her next.

Up top she'd paired a white v-neck with a charcoal gray cropped jacket. V-necks always made her tits look amazing and the jacket cropped in so high and tight that it only showed off her waist even more. A safe choice, but a good one. She knew she looked hot. She had to look hot now that the uniform wasn't there to protect her. Paired with a chance to do up her makeup more than usual and tease her hair, she went from hot to badass. She let her look sink in with the Cheerios.

"Sue will let you come back soon" one of them assured her.

"Yeah. Maybe if you say you'll wash towels or something."

"Yeah, gross work. She'll like that you're groveling."

"Maybe I don't want to come back" Santana snapped, annoyed that 2nd string was giving her advice. Four days ago they were groveling at her feet for the slightest bit of attention. Any interaction with one of the varsity cheerleaders was almost a guaranteed shoe-in for first string next season. It proved that they were worth while. Santana turned on her heels and marched into the school. For about thirty seconds she thought school wouldn't be so different. People didn't notice her at first, but slowly eyes clicked in recognition and gawked. She could see it spreading, too. The daring eyes were flicking towards her further and further down the hall, like a domino effect. It was giving her vertigo. Santana bent her head slightly so her bangs fell further in her face and pushed on to her locker.

By 6th period English most everybody was used to the fact that the once head Cheerio was no longer sporting a Cheerio uniform. Only one girl had dared to test Santana, a good sign that much of her power came from her reputation. Of course, Santana shut her down and made her cry for daring to be a snotty little bitch.

She slid into her seat next to Puck and crossed her legs, waiting. She'd already gone through the shock converstations with Quinn and Rachel. Puck _had_ to have an opinion.

"Nice of you to _ask_ me to play for you in Glee. You don't even know the tabs. You're a pain in the ass, Lopez."

What? That hadn't been what she was expecting. Judging by the smirk on his profile, she gathered Rachel had told him about how the comments were getting really old really fast. She faux pushed him in gratitude for not asking.

"Whatever. You can do it, right?"

"Of course I can. I'm the Puckasaurus. I got this on lock."

"Awesome."

"When are we gonna do this?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Chicken shit."

"No. _Cautious_ shit. It needs to be right."

"So you're gay now?" he whispered so she wouldn't hit him.

"I'm not into labels." Santana waited again for a typical Puck comment about not being able to give up dick or not blaming him for turning her, but the comment didn't come. He only leaned into her side briefly, his way of being supportive she guessed. The kindness surprised her more than anything. Maybe Berry _was_ good for him.

"It's better than saying no this time. Halfway there. Captain! Land Ahoy!"

"Puckerman!" their teacher hollered from across the room.

"Sorry, Dude."

"Nice job" Santana jeered.

"I do it to piss him off" Puck smiled. "He's full of it."

"That's it! Detention! After school!"

"Dude! I have shit to do!"

"DE-TEN-TION."

"Shit."

"Totally full of crap, huh?" Santana mocked, crossing her arms in satisfaction. "Just don't try it again, okay? I _need_ you to be Glee."

That day's Glee rehearsal was the part Santana had been most nervous about. Brittany was going to be there, but now Santana didn't know where they stood. Since the ice had been broken on Saturday, would Brittany at least acknowledge her? She didn't know what she would do if the blonde went back to giving her the silent treatment. Santana purposely waited a few extra minutes so everyone would be assembled. That way there wouldn't be time for comments, questions, or awkward silences. With the hallway empty she bounced once in place to psych herself up and entered the choir room.

Mr. Schuester was at the board writing down everyone's name and a song next to each. Her name was the only one not among them.

"Sorry Mr. Schue" she mumbled, trying to quickly head towards the chairs. Quinn sat up when she spotted the brunette and smiled. The chair next to her seated a backpack and mini-duffle. She tugged them both to the ground.

"Santana!" Mr. Schuester called, surprised. "It's nice to see you. How have you been?" The sarcasm in his tone was lost on no one. Yeah, maybe she deserved it, but that didn't mean she couldn't dish it as well.

"Wonderful. Simply fantastic. My life is a picture of perfection."

"The kids have each been auditioning for a solo at sectionals while you've been gone. Too bad you weren't here to hear them. It's going to be a difficult choice."

"I said I'm sorry. I won't miss another meeting. I swear."

Mr. Schuester motioned for her to take a seat. She held his gaze for a little longer than necessary, hoping he could read what she was trying to say without her actually having to say it. Will met her gaze, considered it, and then nodded in understanding. Satisfied, Santana turned her back to him and approached the group. The seat Quinn had saved was in the middle row, a little to the right. Brittany sat diagonally behind it. Great. She could be staring or giving glares of death and Santana would never know. Mind not at ease, Santana sank languidly into the seat, her flats tapping loudly against the tile.

"Your outfit's cute" Mercedes complimented, the first to test the waters with Santana. "I've never seen you without your uniform. It suits you better."

Kurt was busy doodling as the girls struck up an awkwardly polite conversation. He smirked. "Ping…"

"What?" Mercedes asked, turning to him. Santana and Quinn both leaned forward to see.

"Ping" he restated matter-of-factly and went back to doodling.

"And what the hell does 'ping' mean?" Santana questioned loudly. Kurt only shook his head and raised an eyebrow. Santana turned to Quinn. "I really want to hit him sometimes."

"It's not a good idea."

"I think you look nice" came a soft voice from behind. Santana slowly turned to Brittany, her heart racing. Brittany's smile made her head spin. "I'm glad you finally got to wear your jacket. I remember when we…you bought it and you were wondering when you would ever get to wear it. I'm glad you finally got to." Santana felt Quinn nudge her, but her eyes stayed locked on Brittany even after the blonde looked away.

"Alright, so sectionals…" Mr. Schue began, looking at his motley crew of students.

"I want to try out!" Santana spluttered, throwing her hand up wildly.

"Everyone else has already taken their turn, but-"

"Just one song."

"Let her do it, Mr. Schue" Rachel argued, garnering odd looks from the room. Why would Rachel Berry ever stand up for Santana Lopez? Especially considering their history.

"Yeah. It's only fair" Quinn agreed, catching on to the instance in Rachel and Santana's voices.

"I'd love for you to sing, Santana, but we've already moved on. Maybe next-"

"I have the music ready and I memorized the lyrics."

"…you've already practiced it?" he said in surprise. "If you're ready, you can do it now." Out of the corner of her eye, Santana saw Rachel motioning dramatically. She chanced a glance and found Rachel shaking her head manically. God, she was _such_ a theater kid.

"Tomorrow" Santana bargained. Rachel moaned and closed her eyes. "I can be ready by tomorrow."

"Perfect. Tomorrow it is." Santana smiled and cocked her head. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket a minute later.

_ARE YOU CRAZY? WE TOTALLY AREN'T READY! _

Santana smirked down at the screen and replied. _Well I guess Puck better start learning that music._

Rachel looked up in dismay. There was no stopping Santana now.

* * *

><p>Santana, Rachel, and Puck agreed to practice all night if necessary. They met back at Santana's house after Puck was released from detention. When Puck and Rachel finally arrived there were two cars in the driveway, causing a grimace to etch itself across Puck's face.<p>

"Her dad's home."

"Really? I've never seen Santana's dad. I must say, I'm really curious as to what two people could create something so…Santana."

"Oh" Puck laughed, "You'll see." It took three tries at the front door and Puck calling Santana's cell phone before anyone let them in. Santana came to the door in jersey knit shorts and a long sleeved t-shirt she'd owned for so long that her thumbs had gone through the cuffs. She placed a finger to her lips and silently lead her guests up to her room. Puck entered and immediately sprawled across Santana's bed, clearly at ease there. It irked Rachel more than she was willing to admit because it made her remember that Santana had been there first _again_. Santana closed the door as soon as Rachel was inside and resumed with her normal, domineering voice.

"Gimme a sec. I'm almost done." Rachel watched her plop down by a mat on the floor and unscrew the lid to a pot of nail polish.

"When did your dad get back?" Puck asked, digging for something under Santana's bed.

"Yesterday. Totally wasn't expecting them so early. He was _pissed_ that I let the housekeeper have a paid vacation." Santana smiled mischievously and shrugged, carefully painting a nail.

"You weren't cleaning while they were gone to make up for it?" Rachel asked.

"I was a little, but he was just pissed about the money."

"What about your mom?"

"Eh. She was probably pissed too. I can't really tell, her face is so frozen." Santana and Puck shared a look that cracked a smile on both of their faces. Puck rolled over to look at Rachel.

"Her mom has had a bit of work done."

"Her face doesn't frown right now because of the botox. I'm pretty sure she was mad, though." Santana carefully swiped the brush over her pinky and looked up at Rachel. "You can sit, you know."

"Oh. Um, right…" Puck patted the bed next to him, but Rachel wouldn't bite. How awkward. She eyed the desk chair instead to which Santana rolled her eyes.

"You can climb up there next to him. It's not like I care. Don't be a prude."

"I'm not" Rachel said defensively. She hopped up and bounced hard for emphasis. She watched as Santana blew at her now black nails. Rachel had never painted her nails black, even while she was going through her rebellious stage. Even then, she'd only dared to wear black converse and highlight her hair. Yeah, really rebellious.

"Okay. So, Puck. I assume you've already looked up the music of the song." He nodded in affirmation. "Good. You can practice that while Berry and I work out my phrasing and shit."

Santana and Rachel were practicing a run when a deep male voice called from down the hall.

"Mija? Have you seen the keys to the liquor cabinet?" Santana's eyes widened and flicked to her dresser. Atop was a set of keys buried in a pile of necklaces and knickknacks. Her door opened a moment later. "Don't tell me you got into it again. If I find out-" Mr. Lopez stopped short. He was shorter than Rachel expected. He was still taller than his daughter, but short by men's standards. He was also impeccably groomed. From the clean lines of his facial hair to the neat, manicured finger nails of his hands. Mr. Lopez was a god looking man too, which only made sense. Santana was a beautiful girl. He seemed a little young, but that could be due to the practice he ran. Plastic surgeons almost _had _to look good.

Mr. Lopez's face reddened when he spotted Puck. The doctor made himself a little taller and his shoulders a little wider.

"Why is _that boy_ in this room?" For the first time, Rachel actually saw Santana's practiced stoicism falter.

"Calm down, Daddy."

"You know he isn't allowed here!"

"Daddy, have you met Rachel Berry?" Santana asked, deflecting attention to Rachel. "She's Puck's _girlfriend_. They are helping me with stuff for school." Mr. Lopez's gaze flicked to Rachel. She had the desired effect. Rachel dressed like a cross between a six year old and a senior citizen and looked harmless. Santana beamed up at her father, a halo of innocence clouding her real self. Rachel had to admit, Santana also had the potential for acting.

"Your parents let you date _that_?" he queried in shock. "What does your mother think?"

"I have two gay dads." With a confused face Mr. Lopez turned back to his daughter.

"Mija…hallway. Now." He pointed a finger at the open door and waited as Santana gingerly stood and shuffled out, closing the door behind her. Puck and Rachel were at the door in seconds. Outside, Mr. Lopez was laying on the parent thing thick.

"Santana, who in the hell have you been hanging out with lately? What happened to Brittany? She was…normal."

"Brittany is probably at home, Daddy." Mr. Lopez shook his head.

"That boy will be gone in five minutes, understand?"

"But I need him!"

"Mija, boys are dogs. All they're interested in is…rutting. They will come and go."

"Literally?" Santana mumbled under her breath.

"That is NOT funny, Santana! Do I have to sit you down for another talk?"

"Oh god, please don't. Your talks are mortifying and I _never_ want to hear you say…_metrorrhea_ again." Santana thought about the lists of gross words her father used to scare her and gagged. "Just…he's helping me with Glee club stuff. They both are."

"Glee? Honey…" Mr. Lopez leaned closer. "Why don't you spend more time on the Cheerios. They are something that looks great on applications. Choir doesn't."

"I'm not a Cheerio anymore, though."

Mr. Lopez screwed up his face and leaned away from her. "Who _are_ you?"

Santana shrugged. "I don't know right now." She reached up and put a hand on her father's shoulder. "It'll be fine. They're just helping me out and I don't even like Puck anymore. Don't worry."

"You leave that door open."

"What? You think we're going to have some wild orgy and I'll get knocked up?"

"SANTANA!"

"Okay! Okay."

"And he is gone by 9."

"Alright! Got it." Santana smiled angelically and pushed the door back open, sending the two spies stumbling back. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she opened the door wide and held it there with a book.

"Santana?" Her father leaned into the room, hand outstretched. "Keys." His daughter sighed but retrieved them and placed them in his hand. The doctor spun the ring once on his finger and looked up. "If I find out you drank my good stuff and filled the bottles with cheap booze again I'm going to knock your ass into last week." Santana smiled and knowing smile. "I mean it this time."

"Okay, Daddy." He took one last look at her guests, glared at Puck, and then skipped down the stairs two at a time. Santana dropped the princess face. "God. He's so slow. He totally can't tell the difference between "good" shit and "cheap" shit, I've been refilling for years. Like…he lives in a little delusional bubble." Santana rolled her eyes as she turned to the couple on her bed. They both wore amused, shit-eater grins. "What?"

"A delusional bubble, huh? Wonder who inherited that gene." Puck laughed at his own observation and nudged Rachel. The tiny brunette tried not to snort.

"You are NOT talking about me!" Santana crossed her arms and squinted at him. "I…well, I…ugh, _whatever_! I'm working on it." Santana mimicked Puck's resulting grin sarcastically and went back to telling him what to do. "Chords. Learn them now. Alright, Berry. Let's put it together and see where we are."

"Acapella?"

"Acapella for now."

The resulting mess wasn't too horrible. By 9 o'clock they had a pretty solid number to be proud of. Rachel insisted they meet at lunch to practice one last time before the big show, which Santana agreed to only if no one was around to hear. She fully intended to keep the entire thing secret until 3:00. Hopefully Brittany would want her back afterwards. Or, at least agree to talk about "them" and what that term meant.

* * *

><p><strong>I know it's practically a filler, but I had to set you up for the next chapter. Oooooh I can't wait!<strong>

**P.S. As I'm typing this A/N the twitpix and yfrog links are rolling in. I have to go freak out now. Bye!**


	7. Don't Know Why

**Sorry. This chapter took a little longer than I was hoping. I've been super busy. HOWEVER, I am officially done with school and very soon I will have that lovely certificate to prove I have my degree! WOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

**In Glee news: OMG BACK TO BLACK NAYA HANDS! Gahhhh homegirl was GROPING that mic stand. And how sad was that Michael Jackson Experience livestream? You KNOW she got hella bank to show up to that shit. I was so embarassed, but at least she looked cute trying to play, so whatevs. But enough with this nonsense, on to the story!**

* * *

><p>Santana rose early the next day so she could take extra time to look perfect. As she held up outfit after outfit she became disgruntled. All the primping she was doing didn't feel right. Brittany wanted her to be honest above anything else, and that had to begin with how she looked. Quinn had said no one knew her because she put up masks to hide behind. She herself had described her uniform as armor. Now without that option she would be bare to everyone. Santana threw aside her tiny skirts and shirts with plunging necklines and pulled out a simple gray Henley from the bottom of a drawer. The cotton hugged her body loosely as she slipped it over her head, soft from numerous washes. From another drawer she withdrew a pair of well-worn jeans. The kind of jeans that were distressed from years of use rather than sanded in a factory.<p>

The reflection in her mirror tipped it's head to the side and analyzed what it saw. She looked plain, almost too plain for her standards, but real. The girl in the mirror was the girl she was when she wasn't vying for attention. This was the girl that hung out around the house, or ate dinner with Brittany's family because her own was always gone. This was the girl that Brittany wanted most and what Brittany wanted most was what Santana wanted to give her. Still gazing at herself, Santana swiped on a thin line of eyeliner and coated her lashes so her eyes weren't lost in her face. Other than that, she was done. She was so tempted to straighten her hair, but it didn't feel right either, so she resisted and let it bounce up into it's natural wave. Admittedly, she fell a little in love with how light her head felt.

She was a bundle of nerves all day at school. People stared again, but her mind was elsewhere and didn't have the time to bitch them out. She passed the other students with blank eyes, her thoughts on Brittany and how she would respond. What if she didn't like it? What if she thought it was too much? What if she wasn't there? Well, at least she had planned for the last one. The lunch time rehearsal went okay even though she was so nervous that her voice trembled. Rachel had tried to take her aside and reassure her, but nothing would work. There would be no rest until she told Brittany exactly what she was thinking. When the end of lunch bell sounded the trio split ways, Santana and Puck going to English and Rachel to PE.

Brittany was already changed by the time Rachel showed up in the locker room. She bustled in and hurried to her locker.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'll change really fast, I promise."

Brittany shrugged and plopped down on the bench to wait. "S'okay. We aren't up to play until next round anyway."

"Oh good." Rachel sighed in relief, slowed down, and dug out her PE uniform.

"So where were you?" Brittany asked.

"Choir room. I was…mmm…practicing."

"Practicing what? You already did your solo audition."

"Just practicing in general."

"You want it really, really bad, don't you?"

"Want what?"

"To be a famous Broadway star."

"Yeah...I do, so much. You can't imagine."

Brittany eyed Rachel Berry silently for a moment and thought about it. "You'll do it. I can feel it. You'll make it and you better remember me and thank me in your acceptance speeches and stuff."

Rachel smiled. "You think so?"

"Yeah. You'll totally go to school in New York and study theater and stuff and you'll actually do it."

Rachel stared dreamily into her locker for a moment then remembered where she was and pulled on her uniform. "What about you? What do you want to do after high school?" she asked back.

"I don't know. I don't really want to go to a university or anything. I kind of just want to dance, you know?"

"Well, you're really talented, Brittany."

"I know." Brittany jumped up without her normal amount of cheer and stretched her arms.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked, threading her lock through the door and clicking it shut. "You don't seem very Brittany today."

"Yeah. I'm okay I guess." Brittany chewed her lip, weighing her options. She liked Rachel. Sometimes she could be super nice, but Santana had been her best friend since forever. Was it okay to have Rachel's back too? "So you and Puck are doing good?" she blurted, obviously fishing for something.

"Yeah. Really good. Why?"

"Oh…I dunno. Just…wondering."

"What, Brittany?" Rachel sighed.

"Are you sure you two are okay? I've seen him with Santana a lot lately and they weren't at lunch today. I thought maybe…"

"You're keeping tabs on Santana? I thought you weren't friends anymore?"

"We're friends! We're just not speaking right now."

"There's nothing going on between them. I'm positive."

"You're pregnant?"

"What? No! Ohmygosh, no! Ugh. No, I _know_ he isn't cheating on me with Santana. _I _was with him during lunch. You didn't notice I wasn't there either?"

"I don't really pay attention to where you are."

Ignoring the insult, Rachel brought the subject back on track. "But you pay attention to where Santana is?"

"Of course I do. I have to make sure she's okay. Since she got kicked off the Cheerios-"

"That's why she's out of her uniform? She got kicked off?"

"…oops."

"Oh my god, the poor thing. Her life is so horrible right now!"

"I just make sure she's doing okay and I haven't seen her at all today and it's making me worried. What if she starts ditching all the time again? She's going to get in a lot of trouble."

"She's here. I saw her earlier, Brittany. She'll be fine."

"You saw her? How was she? Did she look okay? How was her hair? You can always predict Santana by her hair. How about her nails? She used to chew them and sometimes she starts again when she's stressed. Were her nails pretty?"

"I…guess so? I don't really pay attention to hands I guess."

"I do. Santana has nice hands."

"Her hair was pretty, though."

"She curled it, didn't she? I love when she curls her hair."

"No. It wasn't that kind of curly. It just…was. Like, normal curly. I don't know…"

"Normal? Santana doesn't do normal."

"Yeah, we all know that" Rachel said with a laugh.

"Don't make fun of her" Brittany commanded, voice suddenly stern. It threw Rachel.

"Sorry. It was just a joke." Brittany squinted her eyes at Rachel defensively, then relented.

"Anyway, so she's okay. That's good. Because when I talked to her on Saturday-"

"She saw you on Saturday? That's odd. I wonder why she didn't say anything when she was over."

"You saw her Saturday too?" Jealousy flared up in Brittany's normally bubbly mind. Why was _Rachel Berry_ of all people spending so much time with Santana lately? "So you're like best friends now or something?"

"Hardly. She always looks angry with me. Like she is keeping herself from strangling me."

"Oh." Brittany smiled at her shoes, relieved. "So why are you hanging out with her so much?" Rachel paused. Lying was never her forte. Everyone always said her lies were obvious.

"You'll see" she responded, staying cryptic rather than lying outright.

Brittany's heart raced. What was Santana going to do? She hoped it wasn't something dangerous or stupid. Santana had a knack for going to extremes. Nothing was ever simple with her. Like the time she was determined to go to motocross practice with Brittany. It wasn't good enough for her to sit on the sidelines with all the other friends and parents, she had to try it. And to try it she convinced Brittany to let her ride her bike. She started off slow, but that wasn't good enough for long. Soon she was a flying hazard to the other riders. She cursed them when they zipped around her and zoomed faster to pass them. It culminated in Santana slipping in a muddy patch, sliding the bike into a hay barrier, and flying over the other side. Brittany screamed when Santana's body became airborne and burst into tears when she disappeared behind stacked up bales of hay. Brittany slid through the muddy embankment as she rushed towards the accident, the other bystanders behind her. She found Santana at the bottom of the soggy hill, motionless. She slid down the boggy mess and came to a stop near her friend. Tears streaming down her face, Brittany rushed over and carefully brushed Santana's arm, fearful of moving her if she was hurt. She cried out Santana's name, shaking in fear. At the sound, Santana's eyes popped open, looked around, and then locked with Brittany's. The blonde gasped as the brunette burst into laughter. How much air had she caught? Had it looked awesome? Was the bike messed up? Brittany could only laugh with Santana and hug her helmeted head to her chest.

Brittany gazed at Rachel in fear. "What does that mean? What do you mean 'you'll see'?"

"…you'll see, Brittany. Ready to play?" Rachel withdrew her badminton racket from its case and swung it clumsily. Brittany grimaced. It was no wonder why they always lost.

* * *

><p>Brittany figured out what "normal" Santana meant when the blonde arrived at Glee practice with Tina and Mike. Santana, Rachel, Puck, and Mercedes were already there. It took Brittany a moment to recognize her best friend. There were three types of clothing in Santana's closet. There were the Cheerios clothes which included her uniforms and suits, there were the need-to-be-seen clothes which consisted of short skirts, sexy dresses, and waist synching jackets, and then there were her regular clothes that showed off nothing but how comfortable she was. She was wearing her regular clothes. The kind she wore when she came over to hang out on weekends or only felt like lounging around her house. Only Brittany ever saw Santana in her regular clothes. She had seen her in such a state dozens of times, but certainly never at school. She stared for so long she didn't notice Santana stare right back, eyes piercing and intense. Brittany's heart hammered. She was so pretty it hurt. Without all the <em>stuff<em> on her face she was so open. It was beautiful. Brittany was still staring dumbfounded when Artie wheeled in and jostled her with an elbow.

"Are you okay? You look lost."

"No, I'm okay Artie" she said, smiling and putting a hand on his arm. Artie was a nice boy. Sometimes he let Brittany take rides in his wheelchair, but Brittany had the feeling he only did it to touch her ass. Still, it was fun to coast through the hallways and watch people dive out of the way. She made a mental note to try skateboarding around school sometime. Shaken from the hold, she continued on to a seat. When she looked back at Santana, she found the Latina picking at her nails, nail file in her lap. Brittany noted the crinkle between her eyes and knew something had changed since their 30 second exchange, something sad. Confused, she sank into her chair next to Quinn, who had arrived during Brittany's trance.

"Did you see Santana?" Brittany rambled, gazing at the back of the brunette's head.

"Yes. I saw her earlier in computer sciences. I had to look twice when she sat next to me. I didn't think Santana owned anything that didn't show off her breasts."

"It's so different. Nice."

Quinn smiled and didn't respond. She'd been wondering how long it would take for Brittany to slip. Of all things, a pair of ratty jeans and a plain thermal shirt did it. It wasn't exactly what Quinn would have fallen for, but she supposed she could see it from Brittany's point of view. Of all things, Santana looked raw. She was sure the Latina felt raw. She'd been dragged through the mud for weeks. Maybe Brittany was picking up on a change in Santana. Quinn couldn't put her finger on it, but it was there. Something was different. Maybe that something was what Brittany had been waiting for. Mr. Schuester came jogging in a few minutes later. Why was he always late? He was a teacher, shouldn't he be the first one each day? Or at least on time?

"Sorry you guys. The copier had a long line and I needed to pass out the new song we're going to start today." Mr. Schuester was juggling his messenger bag and folders at the piano when a short scuffle broke out. Rachel and Santana were quietly arguing and Santana was adamantly shaking her head no. Rachel had a hold of either of Santana's flailing wrists, likely to keep either of them from striking her in the face. She whispered calm, quiet words that made Santana's eyes widen.

"_MR. SCHUESTER?" _Rachel yelled, throwing her hand in the air and staring Santana down. With his back to the class, Will sighed.

"Yes, Rachel?"

"Santana needs to sing her solo today." Rachel triumphantly crossed her arms and smiled. Santana looked about ready to kill her.

"Santana! I'm sorry. I completely forgot. Whenever you're ready." Will gestured to the open floor and backed over to a stool. Santana's jaw locked and tensed, squaring. She was going to KILL the Hobbit when it was over. The Latina stood but procrastinated by digging in her backpack for some unknown item. She just needed a minute. A minute was too long for Puck. He stood quickly, guitar slung over his shoulder, and shoved Santana into the spotlight. He followed and paced the background, checking his tune one last time.

"A duet?" Mr. Schue asked, surprised.

"No. Just me. Puck helped me acoustify the music and stuff." Rachel cleared her throat. Santana rolled her eyes. "And Rachel helped too. So, uh…" Santana looked into all of the faces in her small audience and tried to be calm. She didn't care what they thought, just her blonde. Santana met her gaze and locked it. The crystal blue intoxicated her, made her dizzy and nervous. Why did she have to mean so much? The Santana everyone knew wouldn't give a rat's ass about a stupid song. She would rock it and look sexy as fuck in the process. But now? Santana felt tiny and broken, threatening herself to shatter even more if she failed. She scurried to Puck.

"I don't think I can do this" she whispered, ringing her hands. Puck took them in his to stop her.

"It's too late now" he responded, adamant. "Do it. You know you want to. You need this."

"What if she says-"

"She'll take you back, Tana."

"Don't call me that."

"Take a breath, get your shit together, and get your girl back already. You're being a fuckin' emo kid right now. Not cool."

Puck forced her into place and threatened bodily harm if she tried to sit down. He strummed a couple of opening chords and then eased into the actual song. Santana looked in the crystal blue eyes in the audience again. _It wasn't right_.

"Stop, Puck" she ordered, putting up a hand. The guitar came to an abrupt silence. Santana allowed her eyes to stray from Brittany's. "I just want to let you guys know that I'm sorry for being MIA. It's been really rough for me lately, but that doesn't make it right to abandon you guys. It was selfish." She met the gaze of each of them, considering how well she knew them. She realized she didn't. She knew hardly anything about most of them. Yet, she felt like she trusted them. She could do this for Brittany and they wouldn't mock her later for it. She just knew. Santana turned to Brittany, took a breath, and didn't let her eyes leave hers again. "I'm selfish. I do what is best for me, regardless of how it hurts the people I care about. And I have lost so much because of it. The worst part is, I can't promise you that I'll make a 180. I can't change who I am overnight. I'll always be honest when I see bullshit and I'm going to call it. I'm always going to run my mouth. I'm always going to come off defensive. That's how I operate. But I can promise this. I'm not going to run away again. I will always be here for you. No more avoidance. I'm not going anywhere." The other Glee Clubbers looked to one another to make sure they were hearing her right. What was she saying, anyway? Slowly a few came to the realization that it wasn't about them at all. Just the blonde in the middle row. Quinn put a hand on Brittany's back and took in the girl's shocked face. "I'm sorry, Brittany. I've been selfish for a long time and it hasn't been fair to you. I love you way too much to hurt you anymore" Santana finally said, silencing the questioning whispers. "I really do love you, you know. It's always been about you. You and me. I…this is for you."

Santana began the song in a daze. In the back of her mind she heard Puck start up again and when it was time she opened her mouth and the words came out like second nature.

_I waited 'til I saw the sun __  
><em>_I don't know why I didn't come __  
><em>_I left you by the house of fun __  
><em>_I don't know why I didn't come_

She never looked away from Brittany. Her other half was shocked speechless. The song was for her and now everyone knew it. Santana didn't care if the others found it corny or cliché because Brittany wouldn't see it that way. She didn't think it was so much about the words as it was her tone. She was bare, open for them all to see in. There was no artifice, no smoke-and-mirrors. The song was about regret, about letting someone go when all she really wanted was to be together. The song was saying everything she couldn't. She watched as Brittany brought a hand to her mouth, a natural reaction to her shock. Santana plowed on, giving everything to Brittany via song. Singing to her wasn't just a tribute, it was a declaration and asking for a second…third…final chance.

_My heart is drenched in wine_

_But you'll be on my mind_

_Forever_

As the song neared it's instrumental, Santana moved from her spot, emboldened enough to wing it. She stretched her hand out, palm up, and twitched her fingers at Brittany, urging her forward. The blonde let her fingers gently entwine with Santana's. Finally smiling, Santana lead her to the open floor. They began to dance in place, swaying as Puck played. She could feel Brittany snake her arms around her neck, holding her tight. Santana melted into the familiar feel of Brittany and realized how much she'd missed it. Brittany was comfort, a home in a sea of strangers. It had always been that way. What an awful, ridiculous shame it was that it took so much stupidity on her part to realize it. At least now it seemed she was getting another chance. They continued to sway, completely lost in the familiarity of each other.

Puck extended the break as long as possible, but it seemed the girls would be content in him going on forever. Santana had to bring the song to a finish so they could find some sort of resolution. He cleared his throat, garnering only a smile in response. Brittany twirled the brunette and released her so she could finish. Santana, though, reached out and threaded her fingers again. She refused to let her go so soon. Brittany remained close by, perched on a stool.

_I feel as empty as a drum_

_I don't know why I didn't come_

_I don't know why I didn't come_

_I don't know why I didn't come_

She finished was a strong, carefully held note. Then the guitar bled out and there was only silence. Without the protection of the song Santana stood unsure. She thought she heard applause and a whistle from the kids in the room, but the pounding in her chest drowned it out. She was waiting on a certain blonde to say or do something. Anything. Some sort of hint that it would be okay. After a few silent, tense moments Santana began to stammer out a way to cover her ass.

"Hey-y, you know, no pressure. I j-just wanted to let you know that you hold the cards now. A-at-t least think about it? I really can't _not_ be with you anymore, Britt. I just th-thought that, you know, a song could say what words can't and-"

She was cut off abruptly by two arms pulling her forward by the shoulders and crushing her into a soft chest. Two hands curled around her back and up near her shoulders, pulling her in as tight as possible. Her arms immediately shot around Brittany's neck, hugging tight. With a worried sigh she buried her face in Britt's neck and breathed her in.

"You just told everyone that you love me" Brittany whispered, twirling a lock of Santana's hair around her finger.

"Yeah, because I do and you're right. Everyone should know it. You're worth more than the secrets."

"And reputation?"

"And reputation. None of it means a thing without you to share it with."

"I love you too." Brittany felt the Latina smile into her neck.

"I'm going to kiss you now" Santana said bravely, confidence returning at lighting speed.

"Okay."

Santana unfurled her arms from Brittany's neck and traced patterns on her skin with gentle fingertips. She could see Brittany swallow at her touch, just as anxious as she was. It made her a little giddy that Brittany wanted it so much and that the prospect of a kiss could make her so nervous still. The Latina reached up slightly on tip-toes and leaned in.

The familiar feeling of Santana's lips came back in a flash. They were so soft. Full and lush, they enveloped her. There was so much to play with, so much space to cover. Mushy lips. God Brittany loved mushy lips, especially Santana's. Maybe only Santana's. Brittany hummed happily. Santana returned the jubilant noise and smiled into the kiss, ruining the rhythm. It was okay, there were certainly more to come.

They were all smiles when they pulled apart, laughing at the wet thwacking sound it made when they separated. Like a sexy pop. Santana's cheeks darkened, but her mind remained jovial. It was going to be okay. Finally the whistles invaded her ears, jarring her out of the sappy bubble she'd created. She snapped her head to glare down her "friends" and grabbed Brittany's hand to make their way towards two open seats that hadn't been there before. The kids had made room for them during their embrace. Okay. Maybe they weren't so bad.

Will stared silently at the group, not at all prepared to deal with declarations of Sapphic love in his choir room. "Wow. Um…that was a great…um…cover Santana. Not exactly…competition material…but yeah…"

"I don't really care Mr. Schue. I got what I was after." Santana smiled happily at her fingers laced between Brittany's and leaned into the girl.

"Well I guess that's all that matters, then. Maybe next year."

"I could do another cover real quick if you want me to. It's an easy song. For me at least. I brought the music as a back up. Just in case, you know?"

"I don't think that's-"

"Do it!" Brittany exclaimed, prodding Santana to stand back up. The Latina smiled and fished the music from her bag.

"It's a cover by Amy Winehouse, who is fucking awesome might I add. It's called Valerie." She stepped back into the middle of the room and waited as the band passed around the music and studied it. "Ready?" Brad nodded. Santana smirked. That was the beauty of befriending the pianist. At the sound of the first drum hit she flipped her hair to the side and scanned the room with sultry, sure eyes. Santana was back and about to sing the song that would win her a solo at Regionals.

* * *

><p><strong>ABOUT FUCKING TIME! Right? Lol. Now hold your horses, this isn't the end yet. There is a bit of resolution that needs to happen still. After all, Santana still isn't a Cheerio and now that she's with Brittany there is a lot of cheersex that needs to happen ;) <strong>

**In other news: Okay, so I am swearing to myself that I am not going to believe the afterellen interview until the finale airs. If that interview is 100% correct I am going to PISSED. For those of you who want spoilers and/or haven't seen the interview, it's at afterellen (dot) com. In the left hand box there is a little mouse over of Naya. Click it to read the interview. Then rage and/or freak out. Don't say I didn't warnnnnn you!**


	8. This Is The Situation

**Um...the finale was a LIE! Yeah, total resolution. Totally. I totally got that from the giant HUG Santana gave Brittany. Laaaame. I don't care if Brad is promising more development next season, I wanted that god damned kiss. What the hell? I get that the storyline was about Santana learning to accept herself and not about coming out, but she could have had something with Brittany without coming out of the closet yet. Brittany gets how worried and scared Santana is, she would understand. Gahhhh! They need to hire women to help write that show.**

**Anyway, as a response to this, I have been writing and rewriting like there is no tomorrow. I already have three other ideas rolling around in my head, so just you wait!**

* * *

><p>Late summer turned quickly into fall and life started to go back to feeling normal. The McKinley Titans football team lost abysmally the entire season, but Santana was present at every game. She would sit in the stands with the rest of the crowd and groan as Finn was sacked time and time again. When he grew tired Sam, the new kid, would be switched in only to be sacked as well. In laymen's terms, they sucked. It was alright, though, because Santana didn't go to watch the game. She went to watch Brittany. They played their own game while the "real" game went on predictably before them. Brittany knew Santana was in the crowd, but where? The game was to find her, like a real life version of Where's Waldo. When Brittany spotted her eye sex ensued. Every time. It made going to the games bearable for both girls, even as the season drew endlessly on. The chill in the Friday night air grew stronger as the close of football season came into view, signaling winter was fast approaching.<p>

Still banned from the Cheerios, Santana enjoyed the combination of the cold November air and the concept of pants. While her girlfriend froze in her tiny Cheerios skirts, Santana strode around proudly in boots and sweaters. It was simply glorious to be warm for once. Sometimes, in a show of insubordination, Brittany draped her varsity letterman around Santana's shoulders because she still felt Santana belonged on the Cheerios. She was a member by proxy when she walked around with Brittany and Quinn.

At first the rumors and whispers ran rampant. _Santana Lopez was a giving up dick. Brittany Pierce was into bush. Santana got kicked off of the Cheerios for leading a lesbian orgy in the locker room. They were planning on moving to Massachusetts next summer to get married. They were only doing it for attention. _The last one stung the most. That was the last thing Santana wanted people to believe because not a single word of it was true. They had no idea how hard it had been for her to admit that she was – is – gay. Did they not understand how frightening it had been to walk into school that first day and kiss Brittany goodbye outside her classroom? Had they not noticed the fear that gripped her when she turned around and went her own way to class, ignoring the stares? Of course they hadn't. They only saw a pretty girl suddenly kissing another pretty girl. Heaven forbid pretty girls should be interested in other girls and not boys. How could she be "suddenly" gay?

Those first few days were ridiculous. Santana wished people would ignore her sexuality rather than gossip about it. It shouldn't have been a big deal at all. There were other gay kids, there had to be, but it all came down to her and Brittany because they were popular. She couldn't "come out" in the privacy of a small group of friends. No. The entire school watched her fumble and try to act like nothing had changed, like she wasn't thought of as the sluttiest girl in school. Even Kurt hadn't garnered so much attention and he was as openly gay as a unicorn shitting rainbows. For a while Santana and Brittany had become cautionary tales of what "alternative" thinking could lead to. After a few choicer school scandals, though, the Brittany and Santana drama was put on the backburner. Their status as a couple eventually became a norm around McKinley. It ended up being, once again, because of their popularity. Combined, the social stock they held kept them from being dragged through the mud. The attention Santana tried to avoid ended up being their saving grace when most kids would have been calling them dykes and queers.

Two weeks before Sectionals the Glee Club was going into stress mode. They rehearsed non-stop and quickly got their routines down flat. Santana was going to help lead the charge. It was her, not Rachel, who was going to do the solo that year. Valerie had won the solo auditions. No one but Brittany knew how nervous she really was.

When they arrived at rehearsal Quinn and Sam, the new kid with the Steven Tyler mouth, were practicing their duet. The girls claimed two seats in the back of the room as the blonde duo circled one another, flirting to no end through their lyrics. Santana tried to relax as she waited for her turn up front. Brittany was instructing her girlfriend to breathe when her cell phone chirped in her jacket pocket. Looking at the message, the blonde Cheerio sighed.

"We have a morning practice on Saturday." She turned down one corner of her mouth at Santana. "Sorry. No sleepover on Friday night. I have to get there so early, it wouldn't be fair to wake you up."

"That's fine. Come over after. I'll help you…relax your aching muscles." Santana cocked an eyebrow and danced her fingertips up Brittany's arm. The blonde shivered.

"Oh my gosh. It'll be _so_ worth it."

Santana laughed and went back to joking with Brittany; anything to get her mind off of the fact that she had managed to wrangle the solo spot from Rachel and was just beginning to wonder why. A minute or so later her own phone beeped with a new text message. Santana was agog as she read it. "Britt…Coach Sylvester wants to see me before Cheerio practice today."

"Oh my god! Do you think…?"

"Maybe?"

"Santana! She's going to let you come back!"

"Hold up, Bee. We don't know that yet."

"I TOLD you working out and letting me teach you the routines was a good idea!"

"Britt! Let me talk to her first" Santana laughed.

"It'll be so great! You can be at the games and rallies! And your uniform! You can be a Cheerio with me again!"

"Yeah…" Santana ran a hand through her hair. Yeah. She could be a Cheerio again. She looked down at her denim clad legs and new Steve Madden boots. She'd been waiting to be a Cheerio again for months.

"Aren't you excited?"

"Yeah. Of course." Brittany looked at her oddly. "It's just been a while, you know. I'm used to being _me_ now is all."

"Well, you can still be you. Just another, newer you."

"I like this me" Santana said quietly to herself. Brittany watched her in worry. Santana wasn't being normal and it didn't sit right with her girlfriend. Brittany leaned in to kiss away the strange face Santana wore.

"I just like _you_" she said. Santana smiled half heartedly.

"I like you too."

"Get a room!" Puck called loudly as he entered, arm slung around Rachel. The short brunette rolled her eyes. It seemed the honeymoon period was wearing thin for them.

"Fuck off, _Noah_" Santana seethed, having recently learned Puck didn't allow anyone but Rachel to use the name. His face reddened.

"Why do you have to ruin everything?" Brittany added in an unusual show of irritation. Santana beamed in surprise and pride.

Puck opened his mouth to retort, but Rachel pushed him from behind, her little self putting all her weight into it. She shrugged at Santana and Brittany and smiled when the blonde winked.

* * *

><p>"Getting nervous?" Rachel asked as everyone packed up to go home. Santana scoffed.<p>

"Bitch, please. I don't get nervous." Rachel raised an eyebrow, knowing quite well that Santana did so. Often. "Don't look at me like that."

"You'll do great and then we'll win and then it'll be off to Regionals. Oh, and I fully intend to take my solo back when we do."

"You think so? You're going to have to fight me for it."

"It's _on_" the shorter girl dared, smiling widely. Santana smiled back and clapped hands with Rachel.

"Tana?" Brittany stood at the base of the steps, her backpack over her shoulders. "Coach?" Santana's smiled dropped. So maybe she got _a little _nervous.

"Alright, Bee." Santana stood and reluctantly made her way with Brittany towards Coach Sylvester's office. She knocked once and waited quietly, the way Sue had trained her to do. A voice from within summoned her after loitering for ten minutes. Brittany, not _that_ brave, waited outside. In the room, Coach Sylvester was at her huge oak desk, all the little cheerleading trinkets in their specific places.

"Lopez." Santana nodded a hello. "Sit down." She complied. "Do you know why you're here?" Santana shook her head. "You must have some inkling. Some bit of hope." Santana shrugged. Sue waited.

"…you're going to let me come back?"

"Why do you think I would do that?"

"Because I've served my punishment."

"What else?"

"I've learned my lesson."

"That's what you think, is it?" Sue leaned back in her leather desk chair and rocked back and forth. Santana forced herself to not fidget nervously and kept her eyes on Sue. Coach Sylvester liked nothing more than confidence in her Cheerios. "Well I agree. I really knocked that cockiness right out of you. Look at you, so quiet and nervous. I can smell it seeping from your hormonal, teenaged pores. I think you know what it feels like to be abandoned, Lopez. Am I right?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Did it hurt?"

Santana sucked in a breath. "Yes, Coach."

"Now you know what it means to be abandoned for selfish reasons. The Cheerios are one unit. If one part of the machine stops working, the rest fails. All because of one component. I assume you understand my metaphor and I don't have to speak to you like an incompetent child?"

"I understand, Coach."

"This is the situation, Lopez. There is a competition coming up shortly and I need everyone to be on their game. The Cheerios will win, but not dominate if I don't have my trinity intact. You, Fabray, and Pierce. I need you three together and I need you in sync. I know Pierce has been teaching you the routines."

"How-"

"Please don't mock my intelligence. I have my spies. Not to worry, Lopez. Her insolence and devotion to you has only benefitted me. Otherwise I would have stopped it. I know you're ready to come back at a moment's notice."

"Yes."

"I want you to practice with the squad starting Saturday. Until then you can wear your uniform to school again. I know Q didn't confiscate them, and for that she has already been reprimanded. You better be in shape, Lopez. This is your last chance."

"I am, Coach."

"Outstanding. Now get out of my office. You're baby-whore perfume is stinking up my air."

In shock, Santana rose from her plastic chair and left as silent as she came. Brittany attacked her as soon as the office door was closed. "Well?" she whispered.

"I come back on Saturday."

Brittany's enthusiastic kisses said more than words ever could.

The next morning Santana stared at her laid out uniform. That was it? That little bit of starched cloth was all she would wear? Santana eyed the lack of clothing on her bed skeptically. Why did it feel like she was doing it wrong? When Santana called Brittany for reassurance, the girl answered in a hectic rush.

"Hold on!" The phone dropped, muffled scraping sounds blasted through the earpiece, and then Brittany was back. "You're on speaker. Sorry, I'm running late. What's up?"

"What have you been wearing with your uniform? It's been so cold lately."

"Well…my jacket, the long-sleeved turtleneck we all have, and knee high socks."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Santana…you know this. You wore the same things last year. Are you okay?"

"I guess. It just feels weird to put it back on."

"It'll come back to you, just wait. But look, I really have to go. I'm super behind right now. You'll be here at your usual time, right?"

"Yeah."

"Great! See you then! Bye, baby."

"Bye."

The Latina turned back to the uniform and slipped the skirt over her spankies. The pleats ended high on her thighs, showing more skin than she was used to. Santana marveled at the rich tone of the red and how it popped against her caramel skin. She always did look fabulous in red. As she pulled the white winter turtleneck over her head, the light fabric clung to her like a second skin; it was her first winter wearing it with her new boobs. The shirt sucked the girls in and held them tight, like shrink wrap. She tugged at the fabric, trying to find a less fitting way to wear it, before giving up and sighing. Santana stared at the vest portion for a while. It was going to be so tight. It always had been. She wondered if there was a way to get around wearing it at all. Ha. No fat chance. Santana exhaled loudly and pulled the remainder of her uniform over her head. As she zipped up the hidden enclosure on the side the fabric molded to her shape. It felt heavy and trapping after so many days of jeans and free floating, cotton shirts. The Cheerio vest was like a knight's breast plate, so stiff and secure. She could go into battle right then and come out alive. Maybe that was how she'd survived high school for so long.

Santana rolled on a pair of knee high socks, slipped on her Nike cheer sneakers, and looked in the mirror. Her hair was the oddest part. The ponytail made her head look so small, especially with the crown sprayed down to a shellac-like finish. The long "tail" she'd curled and sprayed bounced as she turned to inspect her work. She glared at the person looking back. So _that_ was how people saw her? Twisting her head from side to side, Santana took in how austere she seemed. Had she always looked so…severe? Puzzled, she stuffed her things into the Cheerios backpack she was allowed to wear again and left for Brittany's house.

After weeks of feeling like she was accepted by her peers, the staring started up again. Santana self consciously gripped Brittany's hand as they entered the school and turned to head towards their now adjacent lockers. Once again it was a vision of two cheerleaders, teasing everyone with their affection for one another. They stepped in time with one another, syncing on instinct. They matched, which was something people had forgotten about them. They were ideal complements, like yin and yang, in identical clothes; there was no way they would ever blend in again. Above all, Santana was a Cheerio once more, which meant she was at her peak. Her stock was rising with each set of eyes that saw her in her uniform. She had more power and more ability than she'd had in weeks.

Santana refused to let go of Brittany. All the attention she was getting was bordering on _too _much. It was like being a celebrity. Hell, being a nationally ranked Cheerio _made_ her a celebrity. In the cheer world anyway. Being a Cheerio meant talent scouts for nationally ranked colleges. It meant scholarships. It meant leaving Lima with a full ride and no end to the list of schools that wanted her. Why people had so much desire to watch her was astounding.

They stopped at Brittany's locker first on the way to homeroom.

"I don't like this, Britt. They need to STOP FUCKING STARING!" Santana hissed at a few lower classmen shuffling by. It brought no satisfaction as they were easy targets to harass.

"Santana…" Brittany warned, raising an eyebrow. It was a hint that Santana needed to calm down and act a little nicer. "They'll get used to it and things will be like they were before."

"WHAT?" Santana yelled at a gawking group of Freshmen. They hurried past and giggled as they rounded the corner.

"Hey" Brittany said clicking her locker shut. She rounded Santana and stepped forward until the Latina was against the cool metal of the lockers. "Ignore them. What did we agree on? Ignore anyone not worth the time and move on. There are too many people here that have things to say about us and it's not worth the effort to care anymore. Right? Isn't that what we said?"

"Yeah. You're right." Brittany smirked and pressed Santana harder against the lockers. The Latina's eyes grew in recognition as Brittany neared closer. "Are you topping me?" Santana asked in an amused whisper.

"Like I always do, pillow queen."

Santana scoffed. "I am not! I do my share and I do it _very_ well."

"Yeah you do." The girls laughed lightly as their lips met. "I like it, being able to be like this and not hide it."

"Me too, Britt."

"_See_? Isn't it better to just be open?"

"Shut up" Santana joked, silencing her girlfriend with another fiery kiss. "C'mon." Santana pushed off the lockers and took Brittany's pinky. Outside Brittany's dance classroom the girls whispered and giggled quietly with one another amidst the sea of students with ears straining to eavesdrop. As the first bell rang Brittany kissed Santana goodbye on her forehead and skipped inside, immediately calling dibbs on Mike as her dance partner for the new section they were starting.

At lunch Santana was invited back to the Cheerios table, but opted out for the "Gleek" table instead, the table that hadn't ostracized her for half of the semester. No one said a word about her uniform, thank god, but Brittany was glowing when she arrived a few minutes later. She joined the table with a dizzying air of joy that only Brittany could bring and settled in on Santana's right. The Latina snaked her right arm around the Blonde's waist and continued picking at her salad with her left. Being a lefty was just another part of being the yin to Brittany's yang.

The Glee kids were talking about –what else? – the upcoming sectionals. Kurt seemed very excited about the Warblers, an all boys acapella choir about two hours away. Santana wanted to laugh, but now the gay jokes weren't so funny. She'd been so defensive before that she'd mocked Kurt endlessly. Her snide, gay jokes had become common place. She still joked at his expense from time to time, but only when his gay got out of hand and never maliciously. After all, he had to show _some_ dignity and try to not be a stereotype. They had minds to change and expectations to knock over. As the most prevalent gay kids at McKinley, they had eyes on them all the times. Santana was the first one to acknowledge that high school was very much like politics.

The remainder of the week dragged by at an excruciatingly slow pace. It only lead up to Saturday, the real test. Since she was re-invited to join in on Saturday practices, Brittany ended up staying over anyway on Friday night. At least her presence kept Santana from becoming the giant bundle of nerves she felt like on the inside.

Saturday morning came and Santana found herself awake before her alarm even went off. She hadn't slept well, even with a warm Brittany next to her. She kept thinking about the pressure she would face when she got to school. Being a Cheerio was hard work, she of all people knew that, and for a time Santana had been allowed to experience high school without the added stress. She had to admit that it was nice to not worry about Sue Sylvester's demands on top of her academic work load. In the short time between finally being accepted by the school at large and being asked back to the Cheerios, Santana's school life hadn't been too bad. High school didn't have to be so difficult.

Santana laid awake in bed for a while, wishing herself back to sleep for at least another hour or so. The more she tried to stay still and let her body relax back into a comatose state, the more awake she became. She ended up jostling the bed so much that she kept waking Brittany too. Each time the blonde squinted into the darkness of Santana's room, her hair knotted and in her face, she asked what was wrong. Santana apologized, frustrated that she couldn't be comfortable with the idea of her being a cheerleader again, and scooted forward to spoon her love back into a REM state. At least _someone_ would be rested at practice.

Restless, Santana finally gave up and rolled to look at the clock. 5 am. They had an hour before they needed to get up. An hour early wasn't as bad as the four hours she'd faced earlier. Santana carefully untangled herself from Brittany and crawled out of bed. The cold, early morning air shocked her system and sent a shiver through her. Fuck that shit. She slipped out of the room and padded her way towards the thermostat in the hallway, jabbing at the buttons in the darkness until the tinny sound of the central heating system sounded in the walls. She shivered all the way back to her room and into the bathroom at the far end. With everyone asleep, Santana took her time in the shower and enjoyed the liberal use of hot water. It warmed her skin, soothing away the goosebumps, and left her entire body slightly pink. She hummed to herself as she slathered on her conditioner and waited the five minutes before rinsing it out. "…why don't-cha come on ovahhhh Vaaaalerieeee…."

Santana was plucking her eyebrows when the alarm finally went off on the nightstand. Looking into the mirror, she watched the intrusion wake the blonde. Brittany's sleepy head jerked up at the quacking sound coming from her cell phone and batted at it until the sound stopped. Her hair blocked her vision, but she could tell she was alone in bed. There was no Santana where a Santana should be.

"Mornin' Bee" Santana greeted, sitting at a dressing table strewn with eyebrow grooming supplies.

"Hey" Brittany yawned. "You're already up?"

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep."

"I could tell."

"Sorry" Santana said sheepishly.

"It's okay. It's a big day for you."

"Yeah."

"Well since _someone_ showered without me, I'll be right back." Brittany practically fell out of bed and knee walked over to her duffle bag to dig out her Saturday practice wear. Santana watched, amused, as the normally graceful dancer stumbled to her feet and wobbled into the bathroom, sleep still fogging her head. At least the house was comfortably toasty thanks to Santana getting up so early. Now alone, Santana dove for her phone and called Quinn.

"Hey" the Cheer Captain answered, "so she told me that you'll be joining us today. How _excited_ are you?"

"About that…I don't think I am. I'm dreading it, actually."

"…you don't want to come back?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I like the whole 'being a part of something' shit, but Cheerios just isn't what I want to be a part of. I can't go back to caring anymore. I tried and I just can't do it. I _like_ being able to eat and wear what I want. I _like_ sleeping in on the weekend. I like having an opinion and being a Cheerio always made me feel like a drone or something."

"Are you saying I don't have an opinion?" Quinn asked, truly offended.

"No. I'm saying I didn't have one. I mean…I never wanted it like you and Britt. I joined cheer because you two did and I stayed because it made me popular. I don't actually _like_ it, though. I do it because what else is there for me to do, you know? Who am I without it?"

"I think you're figuring that out pretty well."

"Being a lesbian doesn't count."

"You know, that's the first time you've said that out loud to me."

"Is it weird? It's weird, isn't it?"

"No. Just different. I'm proud of you, Santana. It's so great that you're okay with it now."

Santana rolled her eyes and ignored the sappiness dripping from Quinn's words. "Is it weird for the others? Honestly?"

"A little bit. Like…_I_ knew way back when-"

"Gee, thanks."

"Seriously" Quinn laughed. "I knew there was something going on with you and Brittany. I just didn't know how _big_ it was. For you especially. You know? The others…they didn't know what to think at first. Like…there was a change in you almost immediately. You started being way less mean to everyone and they didn't know how to handle that. They expected you to stay the angry bitch that they were used to, but then you showed up to Glee that first day after coming out and you were so happy."

"Well, you guys were the only ones that didn't give me shit for it."

"Don't you get it? We're like family, Santana. You have to know that we're a support system. Look, we all love you and Brittany and we're happy for you guys."

"Oh my god. Oprah? Can I get my free car now?"

"Shut up! I'm trying to be a friend, here."

"Fine. I guess I'm less angry now that I'm not hiding it, so I'm not really taking things out on everyone."

"Good. That's healthy."

"Thank you, Doctor Phil."

"ANYWAY! You should still come to practice this morning and just try it. You never know."

"I guess." Santana smiled as Brittany returned, her wet hair curling over her shoulders. She shimmied and flashed Santana quickly, making Santana laugh. "Hey, I gotta go. Britt just got out of the shower."

"She slept there, huh?"

"…maybe…" Santana scrunched her eyes shut. Oops.

"Sexy."

"Shut up."

Quinn was giggling as Santana hung up on her. She gestured for Brittany to come closer, which she did. From her seat, Santana ran a hand up Brittany's thigh and let it disappear under the towel. Brittany gasped.

"You look sexy like that."

"Santana…" Brittany gulped and pushed the curious hand away. "We don't have time. Practice is in forty minutes."

"Debbie Downer."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Quinn. She was pep talking me about coming back."

"Sue told her?"

"I guess, but the others don't know yet."

"Surprise, surprise" Brittany sang, combing her fingers through her damp hair.

"Exactly." Brittany tipped her head at Santana's lackluster response and knelt down next to her.

"Alright. Seriously. What's up? You've been off for days."

"Nothing."

"Really? What did we talk about, Santana? Honesty. We use it in this relationship now."

Santana sighed buy conceded. "I don't know if I want to be a Cheerio anymore, Brittz."

Brittany fell back on her haunches, genuinely shocked. "Since when?"

"Since I started being myself at school. I don't need a uniform to be someone, or whatever. I had no idea I could do me without having to try."

"You don't want to be on Cheerios with me?"

Brittany cast her eyes down at the matching bracelets she and Santana never took off. Santana was going to miss out on so much if she quit. A lot of the fun of being a Cheerio happened outside of school. The group bonded over making fun of Sue in the locker rooms and forced practices. They were united, a whole. Santana was going to miss out on the jokes and stories. The thought of it saddened Brittany. What fun was it if Santana wasn't there to see and hear it too?

Santana brushed a curl behind Brittany's ear. Clearly the blonde was not happy about the news. "Baby, I am going to be at every game, competition, rally, everything. I will watch you from the audience just like I've been doing. You can be dancing for me, now, not with me. And the cheer sex better keep on coming."

Brittany laughed and leaned in to hug Santana. "Are you still coming today? You're already up."

"yeah. I'll go, but I'm pretty sure Sue is going to kick my ass off the field the second I tell her. She made a big deal about needing me back. You, me, and Q are her 'unholy trinity' or something."

"Like the movie?"

"I have no idea."

"Sue's crazy."

"Sue is fucking mentally unstable."

"I'll miss you."

"Bee! I'm not going anywhere. I still have to be there to drive you home after school. You can tell me all about it then. Deal?" Santana held up her pinky and grinned. Brittany took it, shook it, and then used the link to pull Santana to the floor with her. They were almost late for practice again as a result.

* * *

><p>"SLOPPY, LOPEZ! COMPLETELY SLOPPY!"<p>

Santana gritted her teeth, did her remaining two pushups, and jumped back up to run to the other side of the field where the cycle would begin again. She'd passed her limit half an hour before and was running on her promise to Brittany to tough out her last Cheerios practice. Drills would be over soon and routines would begin, but the lead up to them was ridiculous. If Santana hadn't cared before, she certainly didn't now. Coach Sylvester was fucking insane and Santana was one step away from shoving that bullhorn up Sue's ass. A slow stream of curse words poured from her mouth.

"I knew you'd gone soft, Lopez! I can see those cheeseburgers jiggling from here! Is that a tornado? No, it's just a gust of wind from your flabby arms fanning at me!" Santana powered through her last rep of pushups and sprinted to the other side of the field. The girls that had already finished were catching their breath. Brittany was among them.

"Fuck…this…Bee…" Santana panted, snatching the cup of water from Brittany.

"It's not…so bad…" Brittany tried. Even she found the words lacking in meaning.

"The…fuck…it…is…."

"You've…said fuck…more times…in the last…hour…than you have…in days…. I think I'm catching…my breath now…."

"I…don't…care. I fucking…HATE…HER…."

"Shh!" another girl hissed, spotting Sue storming over.

"Oh fuck…it. Let her…hear." Santana breathed, putting her hands on her knees.

"Who told you to stop moving, Lopez? You have a month of workouts to catch up on. Double it up!"

"Excuse me?" Santana wrenched up, suddenly livid.

"Laps. Five of them." The other girls looked up in horror and pity. Santana stared incredulously at Sue, anger and frustration clouding her mind. "Make it ten for standing around aimlessly. You've forgotten how to take direction. You stand there staring any longer and I'm doubling it to twenty." Santana's eyes widened in hatred. She looked at Brittany apologetically and then exploded.

"FUCK IT!" Santana kicked the cooler by her feet, sending water and ice spilling onto the track. "FUCK IT, SUE!"

"THAT ICE WAS BLOCKED AND CUBED IN THE ALPS! I suggest you start moving. It's going to take you years to walk there and replace it. Maybe by the time you get back you'll actually be in shape again. You used to be one of the most well rounded girls on this squad. Now look at you. You can't even breathe."

"You bought that ice at Safeway, Sue! I'm not stupid! And I'm not running any fucking laps and I'm not listening to you yell at me any fucking more. I'm done!"

"Are you trying to tell me that you're quitting? The _Cheerios_?"

"Yup. Sure am! Fuck this and fuck you!" Santana spun on the spot and marched towards the locker room.

"LOPEZ? Get your keister on that track and do your laps!" Sue yelled into her bullhorn. Santana ignored her, ponytail swinging harshly. "Brittany! Quinn! Get her back here right now and she only has to do the five."

"She won't do it, Coach" Brittany mumbled. Sue's head slowly turned in her direction.

"Excuse me?"

"She was already planning on officially quitting, Coach Sylvester" Quinn clarified, watching Santana's triumphant departure.

"Yeah. She was going to wait until after practice to tell you" Brittany added.

"Oh really?" Sue squinted her eyes and brought the bullhorn to her lips once more. "Boobs McGee! You stop right there and look at me!" Santana slowed and looked over her shoulder. Sue tensed her jaw in rage. "You have until the end of this practice to turn in all of you Cheerios paraphernalia. If you fail to give back every last hair ribbon I will put out a warrant for your arrest. Grand Theft is a felony!"

Santana rolled her eyes and stomped the rest of the way to her locker. She shoved all of her personal items into a plastic bag and dropped her Cheerios duffle on the ground. As she was leaving she stopped and thought better. With a devilish grin she went back to her locker and collected everything inside it into the duffle. Oh, Sue was going to get _everything_ back immediately. Santana smiled maliciously to herself. There was a reason people called her "Satan" behind her back.

Sue Sylvester was in the middle of berating the male Cheerios about being more gay for sympathy votes when she heard the screeching of car tires. She ignored it, chalking it up to bored Lima kids racing their pick-ups. She went back to "advising" her cheerleaders, still very disturbed about one of her best cheerleaders abandoning her. She'd taught the girl well, molding her into a ruthles powerhouse. Now all the work was for nothing and Sue was left to try and force some other, lesser girl into Santana's spot as a star. The squealing tires echoed one more across the field, only louder. A few seconds later Santana's car came peeling in reverse down the loading dock to the field and came to a screeching halt.

"What do you think you're doing, Lopez? Sue yelled into her megaphone, highly suspicious. She'd trained Santana to act maliciously whenever possible and now, it seemed, her lessons were backfiring. Santana emerged from the car, a smirk and a pair of oversize sunglasses the only things visible on her face. From the back seat Santana removed a box and plunked it on the ground. She then popped her trunk and whipped out the t-shirt cannon she'd swiped from the supply room. "Oh dear god…"

With a joyous cackle Santana proceeded to launch her Cheerios-ware into the sky above the field. It was raining ribbons and spankie pants as Sue charged towards her followed by Brittany and a few other Cheerios. Santana had time to set off her pom-poms to a few cheers before Sue was in front of her.

"You can add destruction of property to the suit I am filing against you! That is McKinley High property you are flinging around and I will not stand by and watch you waste school resources. I-"

"Oh can it" Santana barked. "You will do no such thing. You know how I know? Because I will tell them where the Cheerios funds _really_ go." Sue stopped in her tracks.

"You have no proof."

"Of course I do, Sue. You trained me well, being your little minion for two years. Do you think I wasn't collecting stuff to save my own ass just in case? I got you, _Coach Sylvester_. Combine that with my dad's money and Berry's Jew lawyer dads. I got this. I'm leaving now and I am not going to hear anything more from you. Got it? If I ever find out you're pulling shit…just remember what I am capable of doing." Santana looked menacingly over her sunglasses at Sue and pushed them back up. Turning to leave, she caught Brittany's eye. She paused. "I'm sorry, Britt. I had to." Brittany only smiled, proud of her girlfriend. "I'll be in the lot when practice is over, okay?" The blonde nodded.

Santana glared one last time at Sue and sank into her car. Sue watched, speechless, as Santana drove away in a cloud of dust.

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><p><strong>Huzzah! Yay Santana! And how epic would it be so actually see her do something like that? She would come slinking out of her car, all badass, and launch shit into the air like a BAMF.<strong>

**Alright you guys, next chapter is the end :'(**

**I may split it up into two chapters just because it's looking pretty long already and I'm not done with it, but if I do that I'll let you know. But not to worry. If you like this story or how I'm writing the girls, keep watch. I have another alternate ending to _I Have a Confession to Make_ that I just finished and am typing it up tonight. That's right. I hand write a lot of my stories and then transfer them over to my comp afterwards. I also have a mini-Brittana piece that I am tooling around for an ending and one or two fluff scenes that sound pretty cute. As always, I'll have this up on my Tumblr pretty soon. And yeah, I know I forgot to upload last chapter, so I'm doing that right now. :P**


	9. Fast Forward

**Okay, please don't throw fruit at me! *EW! JESUS! OKAY**_, _**AT LEAST MAKE SURE THEY AREN'T ROTTEN!* **

**I'm sorry! It's been a while, hasn't it? :(**

**I didn't abandoned Reputation, life just got really crappy and I couldn't deal with finishing this story. It was too close to home at some points and I didn't want to deal. Plain and simple. Suffice to say, girls can be really, really shitty. WHAMBULANCE! **

**Anyway, here you are. An ending. Something to give this story a finale. It deserves a finale. Again, I'm sorry it took so damn long. I'm going to upload a epilogue to make it up to you. Today. As soon as I upload this. Also, this chapter is massive. At least double the word count of my previous chapters. The whole first half is dealing with what happens with the rest of the Glee Clubbers, but Brittany and Santana take up the entirety of the second half. Promise.  
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><p><em>June 2012<em>

Brittany hated alphabetical order. It meant she didn't get to sit with her friends on the football field and she had no one to make fun of Principle Figgins with as he mumbled into a dead microphone for ten minutes before someone realized the error and fixed it. The blazing hot June sun beat down on the heads of the 300 graduating seniors. Their cheap nylon graduation gowns acted like green houses, suffocating each of them. Principle Figgins was talking about McKinley pride, or something else just as boring, but Brittany had stopped paying attention twenty minutes earlier. All around heads were starting to bob, sleep invading their consciousness; she wasn't far behind. Gradually her head rolled to the side, sending her tassel into her mouth. She spluttered at the bitter taste, sat up and wiped away the nylon chords. At least the tassel stayed no matter how hard she turned her head. Early that morning, as the girls prepared for their graduation, Santana had taped down the tassel on Brittany's mortar board in an effort to keep it on the correct side. It seemed to be working. Brittany tipped her head from side to side to demonstrate and felt gravity try to pull the nylon tassel towards the ground. As if on queue, Santana turned in her seat and beamed. Brittany gleamed back and they shared a secret smile. Their friends didn't know yet, but they were moving together at the end of summer. To California. Los Angeles more specifically. California with it's warm beaches, clear skies, and ocean. Oh god! The ocean! Brittany was itching to touch the ocean. And surfing! She just _knew_ she would love surfing. It was going to be a new world for them. People always joked that California was a state full of liberals, actors, homosexuals, or any combination of the three. Gays. That was the part Santana was looking most forward to. Despite the jokes and mocking, if there was even a shred of truth to it, Santana was willing to jump head first. They could be _them_ there without any problems. To blend in again was something Santana had missed for nearly a year and a half.

Brittany blew a kiss at her girlfriend, which Santana responded to with a wink and a wave of her pinky. Turning back around in her seat, her long curls swayed, catching the sun to show the hints of red and brown in her otherwise dark hair. Only a few more months…

Soon the graduates rose to receive their diplomas, one row at a time. Rachel was among the first to cross her tassel to the left.

Rachel Berry did exactly what she'd always wanted to do. The single consistent goal in Rachel's life had always been to make it on Broadway. To start she enrolled in a performing arts college in New York City. There, she was finally among peers who understood her fierce drive to make it. All around her were kids dying to make it, to be the star, the ingénue, the shinning face on the wall of famous alumni. They all wanted the same thing and all were talented enough to pose true competition. For once, Rachel Berry wasn't the big fish in a little pond. It only made her work harder.

In her free time there were numerous off-off-Broadway shows she auditioned for. The occasional role she won, but many went to veteran theater arts students who had been in the game far longer than she had. In response, Rachel pushed it farther than she'd ever done before. She trained longer than her peers, practiced more than she ever had in her life, learned everything she could. The changes were evident. Her voice matured while at school. It grew more resonant, more warm. She wasn't just a Streisand wannabe anymore. She was Rachel Berry, the woman with the voice rich with warmth and tone.

Despite her fathers' lectures, she never graduated because one of her insignificant off-off-Broadway shows slowly made it closer and closer to Broadway. The success of "the show she auditioned for on a whim" launched her into semi-stardom. From there she moved to bigger and better shows, garnering more attention as she went. She eventually became famous as an understudy. True Broadway geeks know their understudies and the talented ones have their own fan bases. Rachel had one of the most dedicated. The attention to her name gradually brought original roles for her agent to review. Soon she wasn't just "the understudy" but a supporting player. Then a lead. Then a star. At the age of 26 she was nominated for her first Tony. Unfortunately, she lost to a more matured, highly regarded actress who had paid her dues to the community. Had Rachel won, it would have been the upset no one wanted. The loss only pushed her even harder. By then there was a drive so innate she couldn't pick it out from her personality. If she'd been a driven ingénue in high school, she was a powerhouse in her twenties. Two years later, _Shrewd_, a musical adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew, came across her agent's desk. It became her crowning glory. _Shrewd_ was the show everyone remembered her for. It was the show cited next to her name in every interview and article ever written about her. _Shrewd_ won her the Tony she'd sought after for so many years.

Brittany clapped wildly as Rachel received her fake diploma on stage. As her friend skipped away, the domineering bounce in her step even more pronounced than usual, Brittany leaned forward and looked at Puck down the row. He was watching Rachel so intensely that it made Brittany's heart ache for him. Puck and Rachel hadn't made it to graduation. They broke up mid-senior year because, honestly, Puck could only stop being "Puck" for so long. They'd grown comfortable to the point of boredom. It was the boredom that lured Puck back to his self destructive ways. When he finally slipped up Rachel hadn't cared. That was when they realized it was over. Everyone could see that they were doing better apart, but Brittany knew Puck wasn't having as easy of a time as Rachel. He was still "bros" with Santana and everything he told her, Santana told Brittany. Puck, it seemed, was regretting letting Rachel Berry go.

There's no need for worry because their separation didn't last. Puck ended up being the boy Rachel repeatedly went back to. For years this went on, the two falling together again. Sometimes they were on, but a lot of the time they were off. Her career had always been first priority and when a new show called to her, she went. As a young man in his twenties, Puck couldn't handle the concept of a monogamous, long-distance relationship. Neither could he handle the spotlight surrounding Rachel everywhere she went. When it _was_ on and he flew to New York to see her, paparazzi hounded them both. Who knew Puck could be so camera shy? The constant popping of lights and clicking of cameras wasn't a life he was prepared to handle. He was around frequently enough, though, to make it onto Rachel Berry's Wiki page. Filed under her "personal life" section, he was noted as her long time, on-again-off-again beau. Puck always resented the label.

Brittany smiled wildly as the next row stood. Sam Evans and Quinn Fabray were among the kids in the line. The pair, matching in looks and charm, had fizzled out at the end of junior year. Quinn was not "geek" enough to appreciate Sam's light-hearted personality and Sam was not intellectual enough to understand the depth of Quinn's character. This reasoning, however, was turned completely upside down when Quinn went back to Finn. The on-again-off-again pair dated consistently for the remainder of their high school careers. It was assumed that she did it because Finn was the safe choice, a fall back guy. Really, she knew that he was still in love with her and wanted her for exactly who she was. Despite anything that had happened before. Finn was more than a safe choice, he was the necessary choice. The right one for the time.

They were together until the summer before college, the same summer Brittany and Santana were anxiously awaiting a certain late acceptance letter for one Brittany Susan Pierce. The week the letter came was the week Quinn and Finn called it quits. Quinn was heading for Cedar Crest, an all women's college in Pennsylvania. What need did she have in Pennsylvania for a boyfriend that she never saw and couldn't completely trust? None. She'd assumed that a women's school would keep her on track. She would be able to concentrate and succeed on her own there. Eliminating a male population on campus would keep her from feeling the need to have a boyfriend at all. Or so she thought. No such luck.

While exploring Allentown she met a clean cut, handsome boy who had been raised to value family over anything else. Those values had been preached to Quinn time and time again, yet the shamble of a marriage and bitter divorce between her parents left much to be desired. The boy Quinn met in Allentown was the boy she ended up marrying. Perhaps it was because he came from the type of family hers had only ever pretended to be: honest. He was honest. Honest with his intentions, honest with his feelings. Until that moment, Quinn had never been in an honest relationship. She fell hard. She even stayed in Allentown after graduation. By then nothing was left for her to return to in Ohio. The friends she'd once had were gone or estranged, her family was a mess. There was absolutely no reason to go back, so she didn't.

She had what everyone expected for her. She had the handsome, successful husband. She had the two bright eyed kids. She even had the white picket fence. What no one had expected was for her to work for a women's clinic. If anything, Beth had taught Quinn the importance of support and safety. There was no such thing as too much support for a girl scared out of her wits. Whether the source of worry be pregnancy, sexuality, or emotional trauma, Quinn was there. In her mind, she was being the support system she had no access to as a teen. Never would a girl have to hide while Quinn was available to help her. There was so much knowledge she could impart in them, so much she wanted to teach. She had been there, she'd been _them_. Every girl became Beth. Every girl deserved to have a chance, every single one of them deserved to have a woman looking out for her, to love her. That was why she stayed.

As for Sam Evans…well no one was quite sure. Last anyone heard, he enrolled in Ohio State as an undeclared undergrad. Sam liked it that way. He liked the mystery and ability to change who he was again. He'd done it before by changing schools, bleaching his hair, and working out non-stop. Really, he'd only known the kids at McKinley for two years while the rest had known each other for a majority of their lives. He knew he wouldn't be missed nearly as much.

At school, Sam jumped from major to major, but nothing suited him. After two years of this, his father gave him an ultimatum: pick a degree and stick to it, or get a job and stop being a leech. To appease his father, Sam chose Business. It couldn't hurt, right? Four years later, with his illustrious MBA, Sam opened a comic book shop. His father was not thrilled. It was slow, but satisfying to run his own shop. All day, every day, Sam was surrounded by nerds just like him. He could chat about the end of the X-Men with dudes who cared as much as he did. Satisfying. All but one of the Glee Club alumni remained clueless as to what had happened to him.

Santana only found out because she ran into Sam in San Diego one summer. She was there for the weekend, he was there for Comic Con. They literally bumped into each other in a gift shop. Sam had been so engrossed in the strange display of Superman underwear that he rammed right into the woman digging through the hokey costume jewelry rings. Santana was pissed for 2.5 seconds and then livid for another 5 before realizing that the man hugging her was none other than Trouty Mouth himself. After a strange lunch at a small diner they split ways, not even bothering with the pretense that they were going to keep in contact. Lunch had been enough for her to dig out the important details of his life. By the week's end everyone finally knew what had become of Sam Evans.

As the next few rows stood to graduate, Brittany pondered the fact that no one knew anything about Sam. No, really, no one knew a _thing_ other than that he was a huge dork that liked to make obscure movie references and impersonations. At least, that's what Santana insisted. That and he had lips that could suffocate Julia Roberts. A scuffle a few rows ahead snapped Brittany from her train of thought. It seemed Finn had fallen asleep during the ceremony and the kids surrounding him were having a hard time waking him up. Brittany giggled along with half of her graduating class as Finn snorted and let his head fall forward. "FINNNNNNN!" Rachel's piercing voice screeched across the field. Finn jerked up in surprise, realized he was up, and sleepily shuffled to get his diploma.

Finn attended the local Ohio State campus, unlike Sam who traveled to Columbus for college. By his second year Finn was second string on the football team, a position that got him on TV quite often. With no idea of what he wanted to _study _in college, he stuck with the Kinesiology department. A lot of his football buddies were as lost as he was, so at least staying put granted him the chance to be with friends. However, tearing the cartilage in his knee junior year ended his football career. So Finn was left with the half assed major he'd started. He concentrated in Sports Therapy after that. In the years to come, Finn moved from school to school, coaching and training athletes. Eventually he settled, marrying a girl comfortable with always living the middle American lifestyle they'd both grown up with. He'd never strived for fame like Rachel, or power like Santana, or acceptance like Kurt. He'd only wanted to be his own man and hopefully leave Lima. He did both of those things. Some saw it as simple. Others said it was lacking in greatness. Finn found it comfortable, peaceful. He hadn't asked for more than that and didn't go looking for it.

Finn's awkwardly lanky body ambled across the stage. Upon receiving his diploma he crossed his tassel like everyone else, but to the wrong side. Brittany shook her head and sighed. Finn should have taped down his tassel too. Just a tiny piece strong enough to hold it in place, but not too sticky to muck up the satin fabric. Then again, he didn't have a Santana looking out for him. She leaned forward to get Puck's attention. He was smirking too.

Brittany sat up and held her breath when Santana's row finally stood. Proud, she clapped and whistled the loudest when her girlfriend's name was called. Santana strode proudly across the temporary stage, her killer electric red stilettos clicking as the customary white gown billowed behind her. "_Gorgeous"_ Brittany thought to herself, "_absolutely gorgeous_." As the diploma left Figgins' grip Santana twirled and turned to the audience. Paper in hand, she threw her arms into the air and shimmied happily away. Halfway to the edge of the platform, the dance turned into an odd little shuffling movement, the tube of paper stabbing giddily into thin air.

As timing went, Brittany was ushered into line before Santana's row came back. They would find each other later, though, in the mass of students and parents milling around the field. Afterwards, the girls were going to head over to Quinn's to get ready for the many grad parties being thrown around town. Brittany waited impatiently in line and watched from her new point of view as kids walked into their futures. In all honesty, she was lucky to graduate at all. It was her elective classes that saved her. Independent Study with Mr. Schuester (which a majority of the Glee kids had done) consisted of more Glee practice and song writing. Dance was luckily repeatable for credit. Stress Management was a class with no homework and no tests because there was no point in stressing out a class of students practicing stress management. Computer Science was with Santana, but all the girls did was Photoshop people's heads onto other people's bodies and then post it on Facebook. Cooking was also with Santana, an easy grade because Santana actually knew how to cook. Brittany's GPA had never been so high.

Finally they called her name, causing her to freeze. When she reached the other side of that stage she was done. High school and all its drama was over forever. No more awful cafeteria food, no more studying Spanish with Santana, no more Glee Club. A lump began to form in her throat. She hadn't let that thought sink in quite yet. She was going to miss her friends. She'd made really good ones in Glee Club, quality friends who cared about her almost as much as Santana did.

With a small push Brittany stepped out onto the collapsible stage and approached the center. Principle Figgins and a whole bunch of old guys she didn't know were watching and waiting for her. Figgins looked really tired and she felt a little bad for him. He had to do this same thing 300 times. By the P's he _had_ to be bored. Standing before him, Brittany hugged her principle to make him feel better. The move threw Figgins because she was the first student to ever publicly show kindness towards him. As Brittany turned to leave she caught a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye. Luckily she had just enough time to prepare. As Santana launched herself into Brittany, the blonde stepped backwards, absorbing the force. Santana squealed in delight, jumping up so her thighs wrapped around Brittany's hips. Both girls laughed, hugging one another. Many of their classmates clapped, the parents in the audience were less than thrilled. Santana dropped down quickly and, grinning, took Brittany's hand to run to the edge of the stage. Just before they were out of sight Santana pulled Brittany by the neck of her gown into a crushing kiss. It elicited more catcalls from their peers. Off stage, the staff were beyond pissed. Neither girl cared because what were they going to do? Punish them? Together, they waited for Puck to make it off stage as well.

Technically, Noah Puckerman hadn't graduated. After skipping half of his math classes over the course of the school year, Principle Figgins had threatened to hold him back if he didn't attend summer school. If he busted his ass and actually tried he would be free come fall, just like the rest of his friends.

Puck did try and by the time summer school ended, he'd officially graduated. Unlike his friends, however, he had no inclination to attend any form of secondary education. School had never been Puck's "thing" and there was no way in hell we was going to submit himself to four or five more years of torture. When his mother found out she was livid. She was not about to let her son loaf around and not contribute. If he wasn't going to school, he was certainly going to work. After a year of retail hell, he reconsidered school options. Instead of enrolling in a four-year plan, Puck went to an automotive school where English and Math classes weren't required. Within a month of graduating from the 2 year program he was set up in a garage. Gradually he moved up in the ranks, garnering more and more responsibility as he went. Eventually he came to the point where working _for _a garage wasn't cutting it. So he opened his own shop and ran it his own way. Being his own boss was the best thing he'd ever decided to do.

Throughout the years Rachel Berry acted like a beacon. He was irrevocably drawn to her, unable to ignore the tiny brunette with the big voice. The associations that come with first love never go away. There is something so precious about it, so revered, that rarely is a first love seen in a negative light. Puck would never see Rachel as anything but magnificent. It was why he continuously found himself by her side again and again. It was why he allowed it to happen even though he knew "they" would fail. They always failed to stay together. Work, family, _life_ would end it before anything even began. Both moved on to other people, convincing themselves that they were happily in love. It was somewhat true. They weren't in love enough, though, to keep themselves from blowing through marriages. Both Puck and Rachel had racked up two a piece by the time they were 40. After number two Rachel vowed to never marry again. Puck swore to never bother with a woman who wasn't perfect again.

So when Rachel wound up back in his life for the millionth time, Puck promised himself he wouldn't mess it up. They would be companions and nothing more. The platonic nature of their relationship allowed for the pair to grow close again. They became friends once more and remained that way for years before any hint of romantic intentions made itself known. By then, neither was shocked. It was easy to fall back into a relationship when it was built on affection rather than lust. It took a year of constant flying back and forth before Puck agreed that it was smarter for him to go to her permanently. Intrusting the management of his shop to his most loyal employees, Puck moved into the home Rachel owned in upstate New York. It was close enough that Rachel could make it into the city for work, but far enough that Puck didn't drown in a sea of high-rises. They lived there peacefully for another five years before the idea of marriage even came up.

However, in the hot sun that afternoon there was no inclination as to what would come. The high school graduates looked at life with blinders. Life only extended a few months into the future. Life was only a college name, a theoretical roommate, a temporary home. The future, for the time being, didn't extend past any of this. Brittany and Santana were standing arm in arm when Puck finally hopped off the stage. Jubilant, Santana stuck out her hand for Puck to bro-slap. He ignored this completely and pulled her into a fierce hug, causing her to stumble.

"We did it, Lopez!" he exclaimed, releasing Santana and putting an arm around her shoulder. She rolled her eyes at him, a bright white smile parting her lips, and tugged at Brittany's arm in an effort to locate her pinky.

"Almost…" she reminded him, getting in one last good jab.

"Whatever. I got this shit! We did it!"

The trio followed the procession back to their seats, irking everyone by not sitting in alphabetical order again. With her seat waiting empty for her a few rows up, Santana perched in Brittany's lap, blocking the view of everyone directly behind them. The girls smiled as Mr. Schuester came on stage and introduced New Directions. As a tribute to both the class of 2012 as well as the graduating members of the club, New Directions was performing the final send off. A group numbering twenty or so flooded the stage as Mr. Schuester exited to the left. Glee club had grown significantly in the last two years. The kids now populating the stage were a mixture of the upperclassmen that had joined since the success at Nationals the year before and next year's sophomores eager to make a place for themselves come fall. Ahead of all of them were the few of the originals that had started it all. These kids were the legacy, the ones carrying the torch of the small group that came first.

A year later Artie attended a state school for his first year of college. A year of mundane GEs at a school that didn't offer the program he wanted lead him to transfer to a technological school for his sophomore year. There, Artie was introduced to robotics engineering. His senior thesis? A conceptual idea for more natural looking legs for amputees. It landed him a job in research and development at a bio-tech company. His specialty was in robotic prosthetics for physically disabled people, predominantly war veterans.

Tina and Mike did the whole long distance thing throughout their first year of college. With Mike in Cincinnati for dance and Tina in Arizona for art, it grew strenuous. She didn't want to go out when she could be spending time talking to him. He didn't want her to feel guilty, but he wanted to be with her at the same time. The pair mutually parted during their first summer back. It was amicable. They loved each other, but loving each other wasn't a reason to not interact with the people around them. Both had grown isolated in their attempts to be together.

To fill the emptiness of not being with Tina, Mike joined a dance crew. At first they stayed small, performing at campus events and local competitions. When their youtube hits began to outnumber the actual live audience counts, they knew they were on to something. When they were contacted by a casting agent looking for background dancers, they shifted their attention to New York. Soon the guys were picking up solo shots in addition to their group performances. Eventually the solo work overshadowed the group work, leading to them disbanding the crew. Mike's classical influences made him a good candidate for stage. Quickly, he was picked up by a company working on a hip-hop based show that needed dancers. He continued on this way, dancing on stage and in the occasional video. In a way, Mike Chang made it to Broadway long before Rachel Berry ever did, although his star never shown as bright as hers.

Tina floundered as an illustration major, but excelled in graphic/web design. For fun, she designed the look and logo of a site created by her friends. Originally, it was just a small thing. Something they did while sitting around together. However, when the site blew up and made Facebook obsolete, Tina's logo was everywhere. To her horror, she received nearly no credit. She'd done it for her friends, given them her work because it had been just for fun. Bitter, she dramatically decided to "sell out" and sign with a firm that worked with publishing companies. She designed book covers for them. Tons and tons of bland, boring book covers. Since she was new to the firm, the boring, sad little projects were pushed onto her plate. What no one expected was for Tina to happen upon the new big teen-lit series. It was her design and her look that graced the cover. Soon there were imitators everywhere, copying her layout and font choice. With that title under her belt, the job offers grew more illustrious. She was allowed to deal with the big names, then. Eventually the final draft of a celebrated actress' autobiography came across her table. It was the story of one Rachel Barbra Berry. Paging through the early chapters, she found a good chunk of the volume devoted to New Directions. In it, Rachel cited them, her high school friends, as the first true driving force behind her success. Tina was mentioned specifically as the girl who won the West Side Story solo out from under her. Rachel said it gave her an early dose of humility. Smiling the entire time, Tina put her heart and soul into the cover. When she finished, she printed the cover draft and sent it personally to Rachel. On it, she hand wrote a note of congratulations and thanks. The draft came back with a few notes in red and another hand written note, thanking her. Next to Rachel's signature was a little gold star sticker.

The youngest of them all, Kurt would be the first of the Glee kids to succeed on his own. Originally, he went to New York to study fashion, but quickly learned that he liked buying fashion rather than designing it. In New York he was exposed to the styles not readily seen in Lima. Kurt flourished. He honed in his eye for fashion like a fish taking to water. Of course he found his way into working for boutiques. His personality and eye brought in commissions far outreaching his fellow employees. From within the small company he rose to the level of buyer. Suddenly Kurt wasn't a sweater folder, but a sweater buyer. He chose what went into the shop and slowly morphed it to fit his style.

When he outgrew this, he branched out and opened his own store. _Hummel_ started out as a single shop, stocking fashionable yet affordable clothing by small time designers. Young people could get _the look_ without _the price_ in his store. Slowly Kurt's reach spread to a secondary location in Manhattan, then over to Los Angeles. Surprising everyone, he set up a shop in a little town called Lima. When asked why, he said that even kids lost in middle America should be allowed to look fashionable.

Only a Sophmore when Santana and Brittany graduated, Mercedes waited two whole years like Kurt before leaving behind McKinley. Knowing the likeliness of "making it" was slim-to-none, she went on to study nursing in college. None of the scary blood and guts parts because she didn't _do_ intestines. No, Mercedes learned the less invasive aspects of nursing. Her smile and laugh made other people smile and laugh. She was a patient favorite, a ray of sunshine in a place always so dreary. She sang around the ward quite often as well as in the gospel choir she'd grown up with. Singing had always been important, and always would be. Song was as uplifting and healing as faith and medicine.

As the group on stage sang, Santana leaned her head against Brittany's.

"They're good" Brittany commented proudly.

"We were better" Santana added, earning a high five from Puck.

"Do you think they'll do well? Like we did?"

"Dunno. I think loosing a lot of us all at once is going to make it hard for them next year. I mean…what are they going to do without a Rachel Berry bossing them around? Where's the bitch that will keep them in check? The smartass? The lumbering dufus?"

"That new Sophomore is pretty bitchy."

Santana scoffed. "Pshh. That Ginger ain't got shit on me." Brittany squeezed Santana's waist affectionately as they watched the group move in and out of the formation Brittany helped them choreograph.

"Do you think _we_ will do well?" Brittany's eyes flicked back and forth between Santana's, hoping for the answer she wanted to hear. Santana peered down at her girlfriend quizzically, not quite understanding the scope of Brittany's question. After a moment she smiled broadly, her perfect pearly white teeth practically blinding, and gave a simple nod.

After a few weeks the girls packed up their most prized possessions and flew to Los Angeles. Santana's father handled all the arrangements, of course, placing his daughter and her oldest friend in the best apartment money could rent. He found them a two bedroom ten minutes from school in a gated complex accessible only via carded entrance. He conceded with Brittany's family that if they covered the cost of utilities, he would cover the cost of rent, thus ensuring Santana would be in a secured home that he could keep tabs on. Brittany's mother took over decorating with such enthusiasm that the girls didn't have the heart to tell her that a majority of her choices would be taken down within the first month. When it came time to buy Brittany's new bedding the girls tailed along sheepishly, having no intention of ever using Brittany's bed. Despite hiding their relationship far less than they had before, neither family understood the true nature of their eldest daughters' relationship. The girls let the topic sit for the moment in hopes that when they did come out to their families, time would prove that they were both capable adults that had been living together for months. The idea sort-of worked and Santana's family only stopped speaking to her for a month or so before coming around. It figured to them that if their daughter _had_ to be gay, at least she was gay with a girl that they knew loved her.

For her undergrad, Santana attended USC. The first two years were a blur as she skipped from major to major, dabbling in anything that sounded remotely interesting. Forensic Science, Architecture, Sociology, Psychology, Film Studies, even Theater became her concentration for short amounts of time. Finding none of these options suiting, Santana briefly considered graduating with a liberal arts degree. Her father threatened to ship her back home and stick her in the Lima campus of Ohio State if she dared. So she settled on English with an emphasis in creative writing. Her father was still furious. Graduating Suma Cum Laude, though, made the blow of a "frivolous major" a little better.

Knowing there was next to no chance that a four-year university would take her, Brittany opted to pursue her dance career by auditioning for the winter semester at a performing arts school. Almost automatically accepted, she honed in on the dance skills she already had and amazed her instructors when she told them she had no formal training. The ease with which she picked up routines allowed her to pick up small, near-nothing-pay jobs. Hard work and nearly no pay grew tiresome very quickly. She wanted more recognition for the work she was putting in and she certainly wanted to get paid more for it in the end. She wanted options. Santana, the ever scheming type that she was, had a plan.

If Brittany tried really hard and powered through her GE courses at a community college, the workload would be less. If she ignored summer and winter breaks, she would be able to catch up on the year she'd missed out on. If she did all of this, she wouldn't have to do the typical academic work at a larger school when she auditioned for their dance program. That way she wouldn't risk flunking out due to a mundane science class she didn't really need. Putting it in steps, rather than one big load of "maybe" made the plan actually seem do-able, so they tried it. Brittany found the work load at Los Angeles Community College to be similar to that of high school, only she got to speak to her teachers by their first names and no one yelled at her when she skipped a day. With Santana's help Brittany earned her units in a year and a half, the equivalent of an AA, and applied to the dance programs at all the local universities. Having aimed realistically lower, the acceptance letter that came from USC shocked them both.

Now at the same school, Brittany and Santana commuted together, lunched together, and ran in overlapping circles of friends. It was by chance that Santana stumbled upon the LGBT center while looking for her professor's office. Reluctant at first to involve herself, Santana broached the topic with Brittany over a dinner of Chinese takeout. Finding out that Brittany had already known about the center irritated Santana more than it should have. How had she not known about it in the two years that she'd been there while Brittany had found it within a few months? The answer was practically common sense. Many of the students in the dance department were gay, almost a given considering where they were. Brittany had visited the center a few times with friends from class, but hadn't thought twice about it afterwards. She'd assumed Santana had already visited the resource center in the year before Brittany transferred.

With finesse Santana gradually immersed herself in the doings of the club, right in time for the LA Pride Parade. She and Brittany were already staked out at the edge of the street by the time the crowds began to form. On all sides people swarmed in, vying for a better look at the floats soon to come. As the first one rounded the corner the crowd roared to life, chanting and screaming in unison. On board the float, a drag queen in magnificent heels and a neon blue wig sang along to an original song as muscular men gyrated around her in leather g-strings and bondage gear. The sheer enormity of it all shocked them both. Everywhere in all directions were people like them. Lost in the crowd, no one glanced twice at their linked hands. No one cared that they were a bi-racial couple. No one cared that they didn't cater to stereotypes of lesbian women. No one expected a thing from them. Free from prejudice, Santana leaned in and kissed Brittany for all the world to see. Once again, no one cared. It was the first time the girls realized just how different their new home was. With a shared look they agreed that they would do all they could to stay in Los Angeles.

Santana graduated a year before Brittany and instantly came to the harsh realization that there was no such thing as a set "job" for an English major. To keep up with the bills her father was now forcing her to take care of, Santana took on any odd job she could find. For the first few years she did a lot of temp work, filling in as a glorified assistant with a fancy title in a dozen or so offices. She was proud to admit that her proficiency at menial tasks allowed her to work for approximately 30% of the day while the other 70% was spent "resting her eyes" or free writing. She had no way of knowing that the little piece she was working on would become so important.

In her spare time, Santana had been writing a little informal essay she had titled _The Rules._ It was a list/how-to-guide of the unspoken rules gay girls lived by. Typical to her snarky self, the piece consisted mainly of funny stories she'd heard from the women she'd met both in and outside of school. Here and there genius tips of sage advice had taught Santana how to exist in a world she hadn't been prepared for. After a while, the stories began lending themselves to several unifying core concepts. Acceptance. Dating. Dressing. Eating (out). Sex. Love. The Rules.

She'd written it to be funny more than anything else. It was a sarcastic, truthful look at lesbian life from multiple points of view. From her own personal issues back in Lima to women who had grown up in liberal, open-minded communities, _The Rules_ had a story for everyone. In the end, it wasn't supposed to go past her circle of friends. Unbeknownst to Santana, her little op-ed piece turned into a chain email, making it first around Los Angeles, then up to San Francisco before heading east. Santana only learned of this a few weeks later when it was forwarded back to her with attachments upon attachments of comments. One stuck out the most. It was near the top and simply stated that it shouldn't be called _The Rules_ but rather _The Truths_. Around this time the chain email hit New York and, more importantly, the tips inbox of a prominent women's media blog.

It was an early Saturday morning when she got a call from a New York area code asking for Santana Lopez. She was confused at first, it being 7am on her day off. Brittany grumbled irritably next to her and buried her head under a pillow. She'd had a long night on the set of Nicki Manaj's new video and was trying to get in as much sleep as possible before her 10 am call time that morning. Bleary eyed, Santana left the warmth of her bed and wandered into the kitchen so her fiancé could sleep. Twenty minutes later she burst back into the bedroom, flipping the light on, and yelling for Brittany to wake up. The blonde jumped at the intrusion.

"Baby! Oh my god! Britt! Baby _get UP_!"

"The fuck, Santana?" Brittany bellowed, squinting in the harsh bedroom light and praying that it was only a nightmare and not real life.

"Job! BIG job!"

"What?"

"Gawker! Job offer from Gawker! Contributing writer! JEZEBEL!"

"Whaddya call me?"

"NO! The site! Jezebel! The women's blog site! Me! Job! Writing! The Rules!"

Brittany put her hands up in confusion. "Please slow down. What?"

"Jezebel offered me a try out as a new contributing writer for their site! The are HUGE, Bee! This could be my chance! If I do this right I could write for god knows who!"

"Oh my god."

"Oh my god!"

"Baby!"

"I know!"

A guest spot on Jezebel lead to a regular spot, which lead to an editor's spot, which lead to a senior editor's spot, which lead to writing for numerous other sites. The humor and honesty in her writing was what got her noticed time and time again, each time by a more reputable name. Her first book followed a couple years later. _The Rules: A Gay Girl's Guide To Everything_ was the book that launched her into internet fame. _The Rules_ never made it onto Oprah's book club, it never broke any top tens or made any massive achievement, but it did mark a place in the hearts of thousands upon thousands of gay women throughout the western world. Regardless of it's limited market success, _The Rules_ debuted with a enthusiastic reception and was credited as a refreshing view that had, up until then, been only told in the words of academia. The name Santana Lopez became synonymous with supplying the lesbian community with an outlet, a unifying means of telling a story. She became a name linked with causes like the HRC. She was present at Pride events all over the state after that and even grand marshaled a parade up north. She'd made it in a way she had never expected.

Still, Santana continued to write for online sources on a multitude of subjects, all of them related to pop culture in one way or another. She even churned out a book on a occasion, always upon her publishers' insistence. Her latest, an archive of coming out stories submitted to her over the years, chronicles the ups and downs of young (and not so young) women coming to terms with their sexuality and learning to live in a world they hadn't expected to live in. Within it's pages her own story is laid out in horrifying detail. It talks about being gay in a high school that was less than accepting and the choice to come out rather than hide her love for the woman she ended up marrying. The inside book jacket flap states the following:

_Santana Lopez is the critically acclaimed author of "The Rules: A Gay Girl's Guide To Everything" as well as a regularly contributing writer for media sites such as Jezebel, After Ellen and, most recently, The Advocate. She currently lives in California with her wife - who is best known for choreographing music videos for some of music's greatest stars - and their two sons. At present, Santana is likely typing away at her computer whilst irritating her wife by NOT leaving the house to get some "fresh air once in a while." Her excuse? But there is still so much to say! Her wife's reply? I will have a whole lot more to say if you don't get off of that couch today. Not to worry, Santana is well aware of who the real boss is and will comply momentarily._


	10. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

The years had been good to her. Time had made Santana Lopez wiser to the world and allowed her to voice her always sarcastic opinion in a forum that tens of thousands of people read on a daily basis. The best part? She got paid to do it. That's right. Santana got paid to be her bitchy self. It was amazing. How had no one told her that she could make a living by being straight up and hilarious. Win-win. Best of all, she could do about 90% of it from home. At that very moment Santana was snuggled comfortably on her couch, her feet on the edge of the coffee table, and typing away on her laptop. She was supposed to be working on an op-ed piece about the Jersey Shore 25th Reunion Show that had aired the night before, but a persistent Anon on her personal Tumblr was too entertaining to ignore. The TV mumbled quietly, set low on VH1 Classic for white noise, as she answered another anonymous question. Santana pushed her glasses atop her head and rubbed her eyes hard. Maybe Britt was right. Maybe it was time to take a break. As she was signing out of her account a song humming from the TV lured her eyes upwards.

"Hey Britt! You're on TV again!" Santana yelled from the couch, closing the lid to her laptop to get a better look. On screen, Brittany was gyrating in time to a techno beat as the singer pranced back and forth, gesturing too wildly in a "futuristic" dress that hadn't come to pass. Ever.

"Which one?" Brittany yelled back from another room.

"Nicki Manaj!"

Brittany shuffled in a moment later, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Oh wow, that one is _old_. Ohhh…look at me. I had abs once. Remember when I had abs? God, I was hot." Santana laughed.

"You still are to me." She reached out and touched the back of Brittany's still damp hand, her skin soft and pink from being submerged in hot water. "It's right before you cut your hair. Look how long it is. Fuck, did you regret that almost immediately. Those extensions cost a fortune." Brittany absentmindedly reached up to finger her modest shoulder-length cut, now accepting the shorter hair appropriate for her age.

"You're one to talk. You've almost always had extensions." The woman glanced down mischievously, happy to playfully tease her wife as much as possible. Ignoring the jab, Santana swatted at Brittany's hand and pushed the laptop aside. "Jesus, Santana. Look how young I was. Before the boys. Before we were married. Before any of it. That was one of my first jobs, you remember? I was so excited. So long ago…remember when I was young?"

"Psh! Remember when _I _was young? I have to wear _reading glasses_. I'm officially old, Bee."

Suddenly two bodies came tumbling into the room. A tangled mess of limbs hit the grounded and skidded before scrambling back up. A rampant arm swung through the air, connected with nothing, and swung right back, throwing both bodies off balance. Amidst the testosterone fueled jumble of limbs, the dense thwack of hard bone connecting with soft flesh made the women jump.

"BOYS! STOP IT! JEREMY! NATHAN! STOP!" Santana yelled, shielding her laptop from a flailing foot.

"Knock. It. Off." Brittany ordered, pushing her sons apart. "Your mother-" she began but stopped short as her younger son's back collided with her chest. Catching her breath, she snapped. "YOUR MOTHER IS TRYING TO WORK! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TWO TO NOT BOTHER HER? SO HELP ME GOD IF YOU TWO CAN'T KNOCK IT OFF RIGHT NOW I'M SENDING YOU TO CAMP! LAME CAMP! _SCIENCE CAMP_! SUMMER VACATION BE DAMNED!"

"He started it!" Jeremy, the younger one, bellowed. Lighter skinned than his brother and still a little short for his age, the 14 year old had always suffered the brunt of his older brother's wrath.

"The twirp was in my room again, mom!" the older boy, Nathan, argued back. Nathan, the recipient of Santana's dark, exotic looks, had prided himself as being the older, handsomer of the two boys. At the wise age of 17, he knew it all and was well aware that he was so much more mature than his runty little brother. With the same jaw and eyes, though, it was yet to be seen just how the two boys would match up in a few years. Brittany had a feeling they would look more alike once Jeremy hit his growth spurt and filled out.

"He took the Xbox and hooked it up in _his_ room. I wanted to use it so I was unplugging it!"

"Bullshit. Mom, he was digging through my stuff!" Nathan countered, turning to Santana on the couch. She sighed and rubbed her eyes once more.

"Was not!"

"Shut up both of you!" Santana growled, ready for her sons to grow the fuck up already. She and Brittany were both waiting for these obnoxious teen years to be behind them. "You!" she said, pointing at the older boy. "You don't need to hog every thing. Sharing is fucking caring."

"Sharing is crap."

"Don't curse at your mother" Brittany interjected, although she was loath to bring up that he got his mouth expressly from Santana.

"Fine. Then I guess you don't need to play it at all" Santana replied sternly. "Jeremy can hook it up out here and play."

"That's not fair!"

"Tough. And you! Stay out of his stuff! _Hell-o_. Of course he's going to kick your butt."

"Yeah, stay out of my room, Cretin."

"Screw you!"

"Quit with the language or neither of you gets to play it" Brittany amended with a sense of finality in her voice. "You know your mom will just take it and play the stupid thing herself."

"You do have the newer model…"

"Oh wow" Jeremy hissed, ungrateful that he'd been blessed with _two_ mothers. "You two think you're so funny."

"Correction. I _know_ I am funny. You just don't appreciate it because it's always about you" Santana corrected. Amused that he wasn't the one on the chopping block, Nathan grinned to himself and crossed his arms. Jeremy, however, was not finished.

"He's just going to hog it down here!"

"Suck it up, reject."

"MOM!"

"Nathan is going to take turns and is so generous today that he's going to let you go first" Brittany decided.

"No I'm not" Nathan replied coolly. He truly was his mother's child. "I'm co-oping in a few minutes."

"No you aren't!"

"Am so, ya Boomer."

"Smoker!"

"Hunter!"

"Witch!"

"_Bitch_!"

"MOM!"

"Oh my god…" Santana sighed, letting her head fall back on the couch as the two boys began to fight again.

"Stop it!" Brittany demanded, pulling uselessly at Nathan's arm. She missed the days when she was stronger than him. Since her eldest son had hit puberty things hadn't been the same. "A little help, Santana?"

"Cut it out or you aren't visiting Puck this summer" Santana sang nonchalantly, the thought coming to her like magic. It had the desired effect.

"WHAT?" the boys cried in unison.

"That's right…" As the boys gaped Santana retrieved her Mac from the edge of the couch and clicked at it a few more times. From the side bar she selected "Puck-a-saurus" and waited for him to answer. Puck's face quickly replaced the static picture he had set as his profile image. She silently typed out what she wanted him to do and smiled.

Distance had made it hard for Santana to see Puck, especially since he'd moved to New York to be with the Hobbit. He wasn't around anymore when she flew home to visit her parents, like he'd been for years after she'd gone. Instead, she had watched him slowly age through her computer screen. His mohawk, long gone, had been replaced with dignified, swept back hair that was always trimmed neatly around his ears and neck. A few years prior she had noticed a few strands of gray pushing up into his otherwise ebony hair. Now the strands had evolved to full on peppering that invaded his moustache and beard. He looked mature, austere in ways. Age crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he grinned mischievously at his oldest friend and nodded for her to let him face her sons.

"Tell them" Santana ordered aloud. Smirking, Puck arched an eyebrow.

"Really? You're fighting over an Xbox? Act more like pussies, please, and see how many girls fight over you."

"Puck!" Brittany scolded, unhappy that between Puck and her wife, her sons had no chance of speaking like civilized adults.

"Hey, Britt" Puck responded, oblivious to the irritation in her voice. "Now, I hear you're acting like little punks again. If you don't stop hassling your moms-"

"Noah? Who are you talking to?" a loud, obnoxious voice called from off screen. The voice still gave Santana the chills. No matter what the girls had done for each other as teens, an underlying theme of snark still permeated their semi-friendship. It was for the sake of Puck. Neither woman was willing to risk loosing his companionship, so they tolerated each other best they could. It was safe to say that they enjoyed mocking each other, though neither would admit it. Rachel Puckerman's face immediately popped into the frame. Hair pulled back atop her head, the famous Broadway star grinned. The rich brown hair of her teen years was fading and Santana could tell that she had stopped dying it. There was no illusion of youth to her. She hadn't played a young role in years and there was no reason to keep on pretending that she wasn't almost 50. They all were. Rachel had kept up some of her pretentious affects, though. Only now, her cardigan sweaters screamed WASP rather than school girl. The visual, however, had the same effect. Rachel had always been uniformly tidy and neat, collected at all times of the day. Even the diamond pendant around her neck sat perfectly center on the chain it swung from as she leaned forward to get a better look.

Rachel recognized the boys instantly, them being Puck's Godsons. She hadn't been the least bit surprised when she learned that Santana and Brittany had finally married and started a life together. Both women had given birth to boys, making them a family of four. Santana had gone first and given birth to Nathan, while Brittany had taken her turn 3 years later. The choice of using the same sperm donor, though, was cleaver. It ensured that the boys were genetically related at birth, a fact evident in their identical eyes and jaw lines. There was no doubt that they were siblings, something Rachel hoped the boys would grow to appreciate.

"Boys!" Rachel squealed, happy to see them. With the back of the screen to her face, Santana grinned smugly as she watched the strained look on her sons' faces. They had vacationed with Puck and Rachel every summer they could remember. That alone was enough for them to agree that Rachel Puckerman was annoying. "Oh look at you! Just like your mothers! I can see that gleam in your eye, Nathan, just like Santana-"

"Not now, Rach. I'm scolding."

"Oh, are you? What have you two done now?" she asked matter-of-factly. Santana and Puck did this often, ganging up on her kids so it was three against two. Puck was a father figure to the boys, no matter how horrifying that thought may be, and they listened to him as such.

"Noth-" Jeremy tried to play off.

"Fighting like babies over a video game" Puck answered.

"Ahh…so just like how you and your sister were." Rachel smiled widely and waited for Puck to snipe back.

"That is not the point! Just…just give your mommas a break, guys. If they decide you're being obnoxious they have every right to not let you come visit next month."

"No way!"

"It's settled, then. Shut up and suck it up."

"That would be a shame" Rachel chimed in, catching on to the game the adults were playing. "Didn't you already buy-"

"NOT if they don't chillax ASAP."

"Alright! We get it!"

"Good. Leave Brittany alone!" Puck added for old time's sake. The adults laughed, the boys didn't. Rolling their eyes, they waved goodbye and left the room, pushing one another as they went.

"My god, they're so big now" Rachel commented as Santana turned the computer back around. Brittany moved behind the couch and crouched so she could be seen as well.

"Time flies" the blonde noted with a hint of nostalgia in her tone.

"I just can't believe you of all people willingly got fat so you could have a baby. _You_. Mrs. I'm-never-having-children-because-they're-demonic."

"Shut up, Puckerman. I could totally kick your ass still."

"_Totally?_"

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Yeah…well…"

"_So how are you_?" Rachel asked, changing the subject for Santana because she was clearly unhappy with the sappy tones the conversation was taking on.

"Good. Busy. My last book just dropped, but my publisher is already planning how to market my next one."

"You're already writing another one? That's a little ambitious."

"Nope. Not even ready to consider it, actually."

"You be fancy, huh? All in demand and shit" Puck commented, punking on Santana so automatically he hadn't even noticed himself do it.

"Like you have room to talk, Mr. Rachel Berry…or so you were labeled last week on Broadway World. Yeah. I saw that."

"The fuck I know why I even talk to you…don't you dare say anything about keeping it real or being hilarious."

"Fine. Just suck the joy out of life, why don't you."

"Santana, chill" Brittany urged, placing her hands on Santana's shoulders.

"God, you are so whipped."

"And you aren't?"

"ALRIGHT" Brittany interjected. "We need to go mediate. I'm sure they're just fighting upstairs again. Thanks for the threat, Puck. You're always the tie breaker."

"No problem-o ladies. Anytime."

"See ya, Puck."

"Later, Britt. Tana."

"Don't call me-" Santana began to demand, but Puck signed off with a smirk. "…that." Santana snapped her Mac shut and stood. "Ready?" she asked Brittany, gearing up for round two.

"Come on" Brittany agreed, reaching out at Santana. She let her arm rest across her wife's shoulders as they headed towards the stairs. "These boys are making me go gray."

"Seriously." Santana smirked and nudged Brittany with her hip. Together they mounted the stairs and headed up. Already they heard the scuffling and hushed arguing over the gaming consol. Despite the stress of raising a family, it was worth it. The life they'd carved out together was worth it. Taking Brittany's pinky like she'd done for the last 35 years, Santana sighed. The gesture was one of the most comforting things in Santana's life. It always meant things would turn out okay. She glanced quickly at her wife and noticed how automatic Brittany was to return the squeeze to her pinky. She'd always been there and would continue to be there. Forever. Santana smiled to herself. They had been so worth it.

**It's done! My saga is over! It's a little sad. _Stranger Things_ and _Reputation_ are my babies. Luckily, during my long hiatus, I started a crackfic series surrounding Santana. It was how I avoided writing the above prologue. So yeah, I'm back and not going anywhere any time soon. Keep a look out? It'll be out in a bit.**

**Thank you to everyone who favorited, story alerted, bookmarked, or sent me kind PMs. You guys are amazing. There's no point to writing this stuff if there aren't awesome people like you reading. I'll be back!  
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